An unconventional love story
by Taith Ant
Summary: Two groups call an uneasy alliance to fight against the same enemy, and love blossoms. A romance but not for who you think! An unusual take on the romance genre, please R and R. Fairly cheesy and very VERY bloody! COMPLETE
1. Trouble in the ranks

Disclaimer – Creator of Orcs/Uruk Hai/Elves/Rangers/Hobbits etc isn't me, but a few of these characters are mine… not the famous ones obviously!!  
  
Author's notes – Okay, I've given the Orc armies ranks that they probably didn't use, but Sergeants and Captains make more sense than making something up! I also know nothing about Orc/Uruk Hai life, society or rituals, so I've taken a little poetic license! Also, I apologise for the lack of the Fellowship but this is an unconventional love story, so as much as I adore Legolas… no romance for HIM this time!! Still, feel free leave a review, I may be asking for suggestions a little later, and enjoy!  
  
An Unconventional Love Story  
  
Chapter one – Trouble in the ranks  
  
CLANG.  
  
The force of the sword hitting her shield reverberated up her arm, almost numbing it, but she managed to keep hold of the heavy metal guard as more blows rained down upon it. In desperation she lunged forward with her spear, past the safety of the shield but the attack did little to help her save expose her to a vicious sword thrust. Dark blood began to soak the dark material of her sleeve where the sword had struck its mark and she dropped the spear with a small squeal of pain. A sneer appeared upon the face of her opponent, and the relentless blows began to pelt down once more. Now weaponless, she was forced to block all the rage-driven attacks with her shield, and her opponent sensed victory. Aiming yet more vicious blows, the Orc drove her backwards, until she stumbled under the weight of the attack. Once on her back below him, he ripped the shield away and prepared to deal the deathblow.  
  
"Good, Nudlik." Sergeant Danglush praised the winning combatant. "Vashlash and Huklog, you will compete next." Nudlik lowered his sword and stretched a dark, wrinkled hand in the direction of his fallen comrade.  
  
"Better luck next time Gorplak."  
  
Gorplak smiled grimly and accepted the assistance to rise. "If I have to face you again I'll need it." She said as a clumsy compliment, for the moment ignoring the pain of the wound he had inflicted upon her. The larger Orc slapped her on the back and walked off to find a new opponent to face. Gorplak wished once again that she had Nudlik's advantages; he was strong as an Ent, taller than most and had been blessed with a face so mangled and ugly that any enemy was half dead just be looking upon him. Gorplak herself still had few battle scars to mar her Orcish features, the most prominent ones having been received from initiation ceremonies, to banish any lingering beauty from her once noble but long forgotten Elvan face.  
  
Finding her legs a little shaky, she joined her fellow companions who had fought their matches already, flopping down under the shadows, away from the horrid, but slowly setting sun. She focused on her wound for a few moments, using the pain to enforce her anger. The hideous Elves would pay the price for her wound, as would the rest of her enemies. It was the anger that drove her on, that and the loyalty to the Dark Master, Lord Sauron. Soon he would show himself to the world again, and all would tremble before him, all but his loyal warriors of which she was so proud to be a part.  
  
"A new scar Gorplak?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. She swung her gaze to the direction it came from, and found herself confronted by a pair of yellow eyes that stared at her lustfully. A smooth, almost unblemished limb wrapped itself around her wrist, pulling her injured arm towards the speaker. "Do you wish me to kiss it better?"  
  
Her lips curled in disgust as he raised it to his lips and licked the slowly decreasing trickle of dark liquid that flowed freely from her veins.  
  
She pulled her arm away from him with a jerk. "Do you wish me to rip your heart out and eat it, Drusbruk?" She asked, her voice showing the disgust she felt at the idea. The twisted figure withdrew the offending hand and placed it mockingly over his heart.  
  
"Your words injure me more than your actions ever could, meltha." Drusbruk said with fake injury in his voice, and Gorplak rose angrily to her feet. It was not his mockery of a compliment that angered her, nor his use of the term 'lover' that he had labelled her, but the language that had spread from his lips.  
  
"How dare you use that foul tongue!" She shouted at him. "You defile Lord Sauron himself by using the language of the enemy!" The others in the small group, who had so far ignored the exchange, all glanced up warily. Drusbruk was a Corporal and Gorplak's open display of hostility did not bode well for her, whether she was right or not. Drusbruk rarely enforced the power of his rank, but when he did, it was not wise to be accused of abetting the guilty party. "You all heard it," She put to them challengingly, but none would answer her statement.  
  
Drusbruk merely smiled at her accusation. "Come, sit down beside me meltha, before you cause a scene." The smile repulsed her, for it showed his even white teeth, no rot or gaps, hideous in the dusky evening light.  
  
"You Elf lover." She spat the insult at him.  
  
At her words, Sergeant Danglush glanced over at the conflict within his squad and limped over to the group, his leg twisted since his Orc birth. "Problems?"  
  
Drusbruk immediately jumped to his feet and saluted, the perfect soldier. "Sir! Gorplak was causing trouble Sir!"  
  
"I was not!" Gorplak protested. "Corporal Drusbruk was using the tongue of the enemy sir. He spoke to me in Elvish." She shuddered as she remembered the horrid sounds in her ears.  
  
"That true Corporal?"  
  
"No SIR!"  
  
"Anyone else hear it?" Sergeant Danglush asked of the rest of the squad. No one answered him; they all shook their heads. Getting on the bad side of Drusbruk was one thing, getting into trouble with the Sergeant quite another. Life wouldn't be worth living, he would have them shipped off to the forests of the Elves where an Orc would spend the rest of his days watching those hideously beautiful creatures… no, silence was a much better option. Sergeant Danglush turned back.  
  
"You're on sentry duty tonight Gorplak, first watch. Punishment for trouble making."  
  
"But sir…" She began to protest again.  
  
"Fine, sentry duty all night. That better for you?" Gorplak knew better than to answer back this time. She merely saluted. "Good." Sergeant Danglush nodded. "Get to your post soldier."  
  
Gorplak retrieved her shield and weapon and marched angrily to the boundary of the camp, ignoring the smirk on Drusbruk's face. She nodded to the sentry that he was relieved and took up her post.  
  
It would be a long night, but it would pass quicker by imagining all the horrid horrid ways that Drusbruk would die. By Gorplak's own hand. She smiled into the oncoming darkness.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
And so it begins! Will update as soon as I can, it may be a week or so, sorry! Still, keep an eye open, the love life of Gorplak is about to get interesting!! Until next time dear reader!! 


	2. A merger and a meeting

Please see previous for disclaimer, famous characters still aren't mine, whether from the book or movie.  
  
Many thanks to Goddess Morrigan and Phantom for the reviews… at least a few people are enjoying this as much as me! Anyway, with no further ado… the next instalment!!  
  
Chapter 2 – A merger and a meeting  
  
The three figures moved quickly through the vegetation of the forest, heavy feet pounding effortlessly over any rocks and plants in their way. The lead figure slowed and barked a word of command to halt his companions. Lurtz took a sniff of the night air, his sense of smell useful in the dark where his eyes were not. He nodded and gruffly spoke to the others before setting off again. The Orc camp was near, he could smell them on the still night air. Filthy, despicable, useless creatures… perhaps not entirely useless, he corrected himself, or he would not be seeking them out to be part of Master Saruman's plan.  
  
"Stupid Orcs." The voice of Ugluk behind him rang out in the quiet night. "We're practically on top of them and they don't even know we're here."  
  
Lurtz grinned in the darkness, his white pointed teeth showing menacingly. "They'll know soon enough." It didn't matter much to him if they were able to walk straight into the Orc camp, it would merely give him a good excuse to assert his authority. He slowed the group to a walk once more smelling the presence of an Orc very close. Very close indeed.  
  
"HALT!"  
  
Maybe the Orcs aren't quite as stupid as they look, Lurtz thought. At least they have a sentry. Easily overpowered but still.  
  
"Friend or foe, state your business." The sentry's voice came again. Lurtz easily located the voice, ignored the weapon in its speaker's hand and wrapped a hand of his own around the Orc's thin neck. With ease he lifted the sentry off the ground to meet his eye level.  
  
"I wish to speak to your Captain."  
  
Her vision used to the dark, Gorplak saw the three strange figures arrive, and issued the regulation challenge. She was unprepared for the sudden lack of oxygen available to her lungs, and she clawed madly at the large hand that held her. Her legs kicked in the empty air as the lead figure pushed his face to hers and spoke brusquely. Had she not been fighting for breath, she would have marvelled at the ugliness of this strange, mysterious beast, his thick, bedraggled mane of hair dark as the night around him, vicious yellow eyes that raged like fire, and the curious white handprint across his ruggedly horrid face. But at that instant, Gorplak wanted nothing more than air in her empty lungs so she nodded frantically, and the large stranger dropped her unceremoniously in a heap on the forest floor. She backed away from the group carefully before rising to her feet and crying out in a voice barely above a groan.  
  
"Captain! Captain!"  
  
She turned and fled into the camp behind her, as her fellow soldiers came rushing at the commotion, some with their weapons held menacingly but most reluctant to go near these strange, fearsome creatures. Lurtz ignored them.  
  
"Poor sentry," He mumbled to his companions sarcastically. "Scared him half to death."  
  
"Her."  
  
Both Lurtz and Ugluk turned to their so far silent companion.  
  
"It was a female."  
  
There was silence for a few moments before Ugluk snorted in amusement. "Trust you, always first to notice an ugly face."  
  
Suitably ridiculed for noticing those almost luminous green eyes, the third component of the party reverted to his silent self. Ugluk snorted again before turning back to watch a group of Orcs, the sentry included, running back to where he stood and stopping.  
  
"What do you want?" The lead Orc, Captain Lushneg asked, his voice wavering slightly in front of these huge visitors.  
  
"I am ordered to take command of this company Captain." Lurtz answered him.  
  
"On whose authority?" Lushneg challenged.  
  
"Mine and my Lord Saruman."  
  
Lushneg sneered. "I accept only the authority of the great Lord Sauron. Only he can…"  
  
Lurtz silenced the Orc with a swipe of his great fist. As his palm connected with Lushneg's jaw, the force of the impact jerked his head to an unnatural angle, and a sickening snap heralded Lushneg's broken neck. The lifeless corpse fell to the floor.  
  
"Who was our departed friend's Lieutenant?" Lurtz asked. Lieutenant Gagnik remained silent, he had no wish to share his Captain's fate, until a bellow of rage escaped Lurtz's lips. "Who was his Lieutenant?" He thundered.  
  
Gagnik took a terrified step forward.  
  
Lurtz glared at the small Orc. "It seems you have earned a promotion, Captain," He stressed Gagnik's new rank. "But you will only enjoy it under my command. Agreed?"  
  
Gagnik stammered an acceptance. Lurtz growled and nodded. "Good. I have new orders for this Company, of which I will inform the senior officers now. Captain, gather your officers, Bagshash," He turned to his silent comrade. "I want details of the Company's attack status. Sentry?" He turned to Gorplak, who willed herself to meet his gaze. "Return to your post."  
  
Gorplak threw a crisp salute. "Sir yes sir." And escaped to her post. Lurtz smiled to see his orders being carried out and stalked away with Ugluk behind him. Gorplak watched them go, wincing at the already darkening bruises encapsulating her throat. Bagshash watched her, captivated by the dark, tapered fingers that rubbed gently at her injured body. An unknown feeling crept over him, unnamed since his eruption into the world only a few nights ago, and it compelled him to walk hesitantly towards her.  
  
"Sentry." The deep voice startled her and she leapt to her feet at the approach of the stranger.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Green eyes met orange eyes that blazed brighter than the hideous sun that she despised so much. Oh but he was ugly. No, the commanding stranger was ugly; this one was truly horrifying. His skin was wrinkled and pot- marked, his rough cheeks obscured by a white handprint on each, his tangled locks hanging limply down his back, and thick, muscled limps that looked capable enough to tear her head off without a moments hesitation. The only question was, was she breathless because of her fear of him, or was it something else? Something that had not been stirred in her for a long time, something she almost couldn't remember.  
  
The two faced each other in silence, until both began to speak at once. Both stopped and indicated the other to continue. Both insisted the other go first and both smiled at the awkwardness.  
  
"Highest rank first." Gorplak persisted. Bagshash shrugged.  
  
"I just hoped that Lurtz did not injure you too badly." She unconsciously brought a hand to her neck, and felt insanely happy over his inquiry. She hoped her joy didn't show all over her face. Bagshash watched her struggle with her emotions with confusion. A thought struck him, had he insulted her, suggesting she was weak? He hadn't meant that, so he tried to remedy it quickly.  
  
"I mean, we need every soldier fit and healthy."  
  
Gorplak blinked, her happiness fading. There was no concern over her welfare on a personal level; he just wanted healthy soldiers to command. She tried to smile.  
  
"I'm… fine. Sir. Thank you."  
  
Bagshash returned her half-smile. "Now you. You wanted to say something?" Gorplak looked at this great beast smiling back at her and asked the question she had been dying to ask since the three of them had arrived.  
  
"Sir… what on Middle Earth are you?"  
  
An interesting question, Bagshash pondered. What was he? "We are the Uruk-Hai, the loyal warriors of Saruman. We are the next evolution from Orcs." How pompous he sounded to himself, but it was true. "We destroy our Master's enemies without fear, without pain." He added simply.  
  
Gorplak was astounded. Her superior in every way stood in front of her. How could it be true? Yet the pointed ears he bore suggested that he was indeed descended from the evil Elves, as she was. So there it was. Her breed was to be replaced, substituted by a new, improved generation while those who had fought for years, centuries even would no doubt be dismissed and slaughtered. Suddenly the future didn't look so very rosy.  
  
"My name is Bagshash." His voice pulled her from her thoughts. Their gaze met once more and he held out a clawed hand.  
  
"Gorplak."  
  
Her long-term future wasn't bright, but for now it wasn't so bad. She met his hand with one of her own.  
  
The touch was electric.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
So the Orcs and Uruk-Hai's are stuck with each other. More blood shed and cheesy romance in the next chapter. Until next time dear reader! 


	3. Of briefings and enemies

Disclaimer – nope, Lurtz and Ugluk still not mine. Gorplak, Bagshash and the rest are though.  
  
A/N This chapters a bit long but it all needed to go in. And I apologise for my lack of military knowledge… Lurtz knows what he means and it'll sort itself out eventually I hope! Oh, also apologies for the lack of the Fellowship, but they may well appear in the next chapter! And yet more apologies for my geography, although hopefully it's right!  
  
And thanks you FehrKitten for the review… mmm, chocolate covered elves… there's a story in itself! Anyway… on with the show!  
  
Chapter 3 – Of briefings and enemies  
  
"I have never seen a more pitiful excuse for a Company of Orcs, so wipe that pathetic smile off your face Captain."  
  
It was hardly the gloried beginning Gagnik had been wishing for when he and all the officers in camp met with Lurtz and Ugluk, nor did he know that this was in fact the first time Lurtz had ever seen an Orc. Still, Lurtz wasn't going to admit that disadvantage.  
  
"Contemptible as you are however, you have been chosen for a special mission. A mission that requires the utmost skill and bravery, so beneath this feeble facade I'm hoping for some half decent troops. Well?"  
  
There were a few moments of silence before almost every officer in the room came forward with an agreement to Lurtz's words. He held up a hand for silence. "Captain?"  
  
"Most of the soldiers are veterans sir, well used to offensive work and we have received compliments from the mouth of Lord Sauron himself for our strategies."  
  
"Good." Lurtz replied to Gagnik's obviously proud statements. "The fact that you are the closest to the position we require you in is also useful." He and Ugluk shared an amusement that the Orcs did not. "Presumably you also excel at night attacks?" The ridicule was accompanied by a wild snort of laughter from Ugluk, who found the Orc's weaknesses highly entertaining.  
  
Newly promoted Lieutenant Muklag risked a question to regain the pride of the other officers. "And what exactly, sir, is your experience on the battlefield?"  
  
In a blink, Ugluk was beside Muklag and ready to break a few limbs at his insolence, but Lurtz restrained him with a word of command.  
  
"My 'experience' Lieutenant is that I am superior to you in every way. We may all be bred for the same thing, but we are stronger, faster, more efficient and, more importantly, unhampered by the pathetic excuse of fear and pain. We expect death and revel in it. We are the Uruk-Hai, and you will obey your superiors without question and without insubordination. Am I understood?"  
  
No one quite knew how to answer as his words sunk in, in much the same way that Gorplak had been astounded at the Uruk-Hai's words. Nods of agreement appeared for Lurtz's benefit.  
  
"I have new orders for you," Lurtz began. "We begin by marching, as quickly as possible, east from here at Fangorn to find the Anduin River, which we will follow south from the woods of Lorien towards the great Falls of Rauros. From here, you will form the vanguard of an attack upon the so- called Fellowship who at present in possession of Lord Sauron's Ring. We shall retrieve it."  
  
A gasp went around the group. "So close?" "How dare they." "Blackguards, how dare they think they can get away with this." Gagnik's voice stood out from the rest.  
  
"The vanguard you say sir? Surely such warriors of your standard would wish to take the glory of leading the attack?" A silence once more filled the air.  
  
"Are you afraid to lead your troops, Captain?" Lurtz said quietly.  
  
"N..no sir," Gagnik stammered. "But presumably, as our superiors the Uruk-Hai would be more likely to achieve victory?" He managed to worm his way out of his own predicament.  
  
Lurtz smiled at the implied compliment. "The plan of attack involves a pincer movement, the Uruk-Hai on one side, you Orcs on the other. This Company will attack first, while we shepherd the Fellowship towards you," So you get the higher number of casualties, he did not add aloud. "Preventing their escape and securing victory. A task I assume your troops are up to?"  
  
Gagnik did not have time to reply before a great shout of agreement surged up from the other officers present. Ugluk and Lurtz shared a small but satisfied look. His plan was working perfectly. Now all he needed was Bagshash's report on the capability of the Company's fighting abilities, to access which troops to place where and the strategy would be complete, and the Ring would soon be in Master Saruman's possession. Although there was one point that may bring disaster. He quelled their enthusiasm.  
  
"The attack however, may take place during the day." Once more a silence fell. This the officers had not been prepared for. "The area is in dense forest which should provide you with adequate cover. I assume this is acceptable to you all?"  
  
Lieutenant Muklag was outraged. "You can't expect us to go with all this in daylight! That's preposterous!" Lurtz's only response was a curt nod to Ugluk. A few moments later, Muklag had no voice for complaints as he watched his own black blood flowing from his ripped throat away into the forest floor just before he sagged to the ground in an inert heap.  
  
"Anyone else have any complaints?" Ugluk asked, some instinct in him now awakened and wishing for more blood to be spilt. He frowned in annoyance when no one else did.  
  
"Officers." Lurtz called for their attention. "Prepare your troops to move out. We break camp tonight. And someone remove this cowardly piece of filth." He gave the body of Muklag a hefty kick. "Dismissed."  
  
  
  
  
  
As swiftly as their hands met, they dropped again, the one touch alive with a surge of something that passed between them. They smiled awkwardly and silence descended again.  
  
"I should get on." Bagshash spoke up first. "If Lurtz tells you to do something, you don't argue." He remembered the number of bodies lying in their wake that had argued with him and lived no more to tell the tale. Gorplak nodded.  
  
"Sorry sir, I've kept you." She saluted formally. "Nothing more to report sir."  
  
"Carry on Private Gorplak." Bagshash mocked her gently, but she turned to him and set him straight.  
  
"That's Archer Gorplak sir, see?" She indicated to a single red line tattooed into her right upper arm. "Red for the archer's division, blue for infantry. An extra line for Sergeancy and two for an officer." Bagshash took hold of her arm and looked more closely at the tattoo, and felt her archer's muscles beneath his hands.  
  
"Is the division any good?" He asked. She snorted.  
  
"About as good as Trolls are at flying."  
  
Bagshash laughed. "Not great then?"  
  
"Some of us aren't bad, but Ensign Muklag is the officer in charge and he's not too enthusiastic, he got passed over for promotion in the infantry section so transferred over to us." She told him. "Now he's got a purple tattoo because he switched, and got the two extra lines." She shrugged. "It's easy for some."  
  
He nodded. "No more lines for you though?" He asked. Was promotion earned on ability he wondered.  
  
Gorplak shook her head. "I'm a female sir, no promotion for me." Bagshash frowned, uncomprehending. "There aren't many females in the army sir, because few are created. We go through breeding cycles for a millennia or two then they either kick you into the army or slit your throat while you sleep. I was one of the unlucky ones so here I am."  
  
"Breeding cycles? And why are you unlucky?" He asked, still not understanding.  
  
"Orcs were originally mutilated and ravaged Elves, but as they started killing themselves than be captured alive, other ways of breeding had to be found, that's where we females come in." Her eyes drifted out into the darkness again. "A few thousand offspring later and the females are free, lucky if you're killed then you don't come to the attention of all the males out there who assume you're still in the breeding cycle."  
  
"You sound like you speak from experience." Bagshash spoke quietly. Gorplak laughed humourlessly, thinking of those horrid straight teeth almost in terror.  
  
"I can handle him sir, don't worry about me." But please do, she refrained from saying. Although whether he was genuinely concerned she still wasn't sure. She hoped so.  
  
Bagshash was outraged. How dare anyone pursue her in anyway dishonourably. This ugly creature whose eyes portrayed her dismay and sorrow, and whose black hair shone with a silver sheen in the moonlight above her. He was about to jump to her defence and promise his protection when a voice interrupted them.  
  
"Gorplak, are you lonely, meltha?"  
  
Beside him, he saw Gorplak tense, and he melted into the shadows to avoid being seen by this unwanted intruder.  
  
"Go away Drusbruk."  
  
He slid up to her. "Now then, that's no way to treat your superiors is it?" Bagshash looked in disgust at this new Orc. He was hideous and flawless, his skin smooth and pale in the night. At least Gorplak didn't seem interested, she pulled further away but he followed her every move. Bagshash could take no more.  
  
A fist flew out and caught Drusbruk in his smooth, smirking face. He fell backwards from the force of the hit and squealed in pain, clutching his nose that now spurted blood. Bagshash kicked out, connecting with Drusbruk's ribs, breaking a few with a satisfying crack. He whimpered some more and tried to escape in reverse, away from Bagshash's anger. Bagshash merely lashed out with his foot again, catching Drusbruk's arm, sending him flailing on his back again. In desperation he cried out.  
  
"Officer's first, sorry sir."  
  
Bagshash growled and picked Drusbruk up by a retreating ankle. "Pay the lady a bit more respect from now on."  
  
"Sir yes sir!" Drusbruk shrieked, the blood from his face now splattering everywhere as he dangled in Bagshash's firm grip. It was hardly a worthwhile promise, but he accepted it for now. With a heave, he threw Drusbruk back towards camp, who landed with a groan, and brushed off his bloodstained hands. He turned back to Gorplak, having seen off his rival, to find her staring in disbelief. He checked, fearing the worst.  
  
"You have every right to be shocked. This is what I am." In her silence he did not look at her. How she must hate him, throwing his weight around, beating whatever displeased him. It was only at the sound of her laughter that he managed to face her in astonishment.  
  
She laughed until she could laugh no more. "Oh how long have I dreamt of seeing that!" She professed happily. "Drusbruk squealing like a little child! I owe you so much sir, thank you."  
  
"You aren't angry?" He asked cautiously. She shook her head in denial.  
  
"He's plagued me for months. Bagshash," she used his name and the sound of it ran through every nerve in his body tantalisingly. "You're my saviour."  
  
Had Bagshash known it, he would have given this immense instinct a name – desire, but it remained unknown. Even so, it urged him forward. Reaching out a tentative hand, he stroked her cheek, still wet with Drusbruk's blood where it had splattered. A contented sigh escaped Gorplak's lips, and Bagshash took it as a sign. Cradling her face in his hands, he pulled the unresisting Gorplak towards him. He felt her breath on his lips and savoured it, wallowing in this feeling he had never felt before. Gorplak found herself unable to breath again, this time wishing only for his gnarled lips on hers to end this torment. Her wish seemingly granted, he leaned the remaining way between them and…  
  
"BAGSHASH!" Lurtz's echoing bellow pulled them from their embrace. After a moments pause, Bagshash turned his head and bellowed in reply.  
  
"Coming."  
  
Gorplak closed her eyes, unreleased from her torment.  
  
"I'm sorry." He whispered quietly. She smiled gently and opened her eyes. He took a step back, a hand trailing from her cheek, over her shoulder, down her arm and captured her hand in his. He raised it to his lips, grazing a kiss over her palm, sending tiny shivers down her spine.  
  
She swallowed briefly before finding her voice. "Goodnight sir."  
  
"Goodnight acting-sentry Archer."  
  
His grip on her hand released and the darkness took him away.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Awww, don't they make a cute couple! Will they ever consummate their love? Have they made an enemy in Drusbruk? What is Lurtz's plan of action? And when will this list of questions stop? Now actually. Until next time dear reader! 


	4. A march at night and a fight by day

Disclaimer: I doubt Mills and Boons will publish it so I'm making no money and Lurtz and Ugluk still aren't mine.  
  
A/N – Well, another long chapter and no Fellowship yet I'm afraid… I got caught up in all the fighting, sorry! The Fellowship will be in the next chapter I promise. Still, on with the story! And should I put the rating up for all the blood, violence and lustful intentions or is it okay? Please do leave a review if you like it, hate it, want to bury it in mud to let it evolve, whatever!! Oh, and thanks to Womba Warrior for the review! Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 4 – A march at night and a fight by day  
  
"So?"  
  
"So what?"  
  
Vashlash, the only other female in the Company, glanced over at Gorplak running beside her. "So what's going on?"  
  
"With what?" Gorplak deliberately pretended not to understand her friend's question. Since their interrupted embrace and subsequent parting, Gorplak had not spoken to or seen anyone until she was relieved from her post to begin the march east, and didn't know how word could have got round so quickly, she barely knew what was happening herself. All she knew was that whenever she closed her eyes, she could feel his breath on her lips, hear his voice in her ears, and feel the brush of his lips over her skin. It made her cheeks glow a dark hue at the thought of him.  
  
Vashlash saw the flush on Gorplak's cheeks and started to grin. "You know what's going on here don't you, admit it! You were on sentry duty when these three arrived, you must know something!"  
  
Gorplak let out a sigh of relief, it seemed that Vashlash didn't know what had happened between Bagshash and herself.  
  
"Well," she began. "Apparently our illustrious visitors were created to be an army, just like us, only they're the new and improved version. They feel no fear or pain, call themselves the Uruk-Hai and they're here to take over. I think."  
  
Vashlash interrupted with a snort. "Rubbish, Lord Sauron wouldn't replace us, after all he's put us through!"  
  
"I don't know if they're here to replace us or not, that just what Ba… Commander Bagshash told me."  
  
"Is he one of the two who put the fear of Morgoth into the senior officers and has them jumping like trolls at dawn? And why was he talking to you! A creature as grotesque as that should come straight to me with my face." She ran a hand over her twisted and crooked features, and Gorplak realised she might be right. Compared to her, Gorplak was as ugly as a dwarf. How could a magnificent beast like Bagshash possibly be interested in Gorplak when there was repulsiveness like Vashlash around? She answered carefully.  
  
"No, the main one is Commander Lurtz, Commander Bagshash was the other one, and he was talking to me because he obviously thinks archery girls are better than the infantry girls." She spoke in a nonchalant tone she didn't feel.  
  
She was rewarded with a rough but playful push; unfortunately it pushed her out of the ranks of running Orcs and into the intention of Bagshash who was running just behind. For a brief moment his heart pounded louder than his running feet as he recognised the black moon-touched locks that seemed so familiar.  
  
"Gorplak." He sped up to catch a word with her but realised she wasn't alone. "Archer Gorplak, get back in rank before I bring out the whip." He spoke more hastily than he had meant to, to cover himself.  
  
"Sorry sir. Yes sir." She slid back into place next to Vashlash and gave him the smallest hint of a smile, her insides churning at the mere sight of him again. But Bagshash didn't notice. He was too busy staring at the sight of the other female Orc. Vashlash noticed his attention and revelled in it, giving him a twisted grin that set off the scars of her broken jawbone.  
  
"Lovely night for a run sir." She purred at him. Gorplak fixed her gaze steadily on the ground ahead of her. One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain, one foot in front of the other.  
  
Vashlash continued to hold Bagshash's attention. "A little dry for my taste, Archer…?" He left the question hanging.  
  
"Vashlash sir. Private Vashlash. I'm in the infantry sir, much like yourself. I like to be able to see the fear in the enemy's eyes when you kill them. And taste the blood in the air." She caught his eye and smiled.  
  
Bagshash met her gaze, but although she was hideously ugly, her eyes didn't draw him in the way Gorplak's did. As red as they were, he still remembered the bright pair of green eyes that had stared so intently at him, that had been so open with emotion, unlike these before him that seemed so empty of character.  
  
Gorplak listened to Vashlash's flirting with an envy she could not have thought possible. Boasting of her prowess in battle, flashing those red, red eyes, how could Bagshash not resist. Then she was welcome to him, she thought angrily and almost flinched at the thought.  
  
Bagshash broke Vashlash's eye contact and stared ahead briefly. "No enemies tonight ladies, so if you'd keep going and stay in file, I'm bid you good night," he glanced over at Gorplak, who would not met his gaze. "Again." He slowed his pace to fall back to his original position.  
  
"Good night sir!" Vashlash called out after him, Gorplak made no reply. Checking he couldn't hear them, Vashlash gushed happily. "He's even more deliciously repulsive up close than at a distance, isn't he! And did you see the way he was staring at me?" She didn't notice her companion's lack of response. "I thought Command Lurtz was bad, but him… he is simply horrendous!"  
  
Gorplak tried to smile and laugh, but only a small sighed agreement would come out. She was spared any further arduous torture by the call to halt, for already the hated sun was peering over the landscape, bringing it's light back into the darkened world. The Company drew to a stop and headed for the shelter of the forest to keep the horrid rays of light at bay.  
  
  
  
  
  
Gorplak spent the day resting, as did most of the troops, her long hours at her sentry's post the night before beginning to take it's toil. A few times her eyes blurred and glazed over as her limbs rested in the elvish fashion, and she slept.  
  
Until a sudden blow to her stomach doubled her over in pain and brought her senses back into the light of day. As she gasped to recover her breath, a voice snarled in her ear.  
  
"Not so brave without your new protector around, are you meltha?" A sharp blow on her back sent her sprawling to the ground. Drusbruk stood over her in triumph, his nose bruised from it's breaking the night before. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head up. "Just you and me now."  
  
Gorplak had no intention of being submissive, and his words were the fuel she needed. Using the momentum he had given her, she drove her head backwards, the back of her head smashing into Drusbruk's face. He once more emitted a great squeal, and released the grip on her hair. Gorplak struggled to her feet and turned to face him more equally. She glanced over at her weapons, unfortunately they lay behind Drusbruk where she could not reach them, and in her search for them, she brought them to Drusbruk's attention. Grinning madly, he leant down to pick up her sword, but if she let him to that, Gorplak realised she had no chance. At the moment he started to bend she flung herself at him, long talon-like fingernails outstretched. Caught off-balance, Drusbruk flailed wildly as she reached for his throat. She would kill him now; it was all she could think about. She would kill him for the torment, and she could taste his blood in the air as her claws found his skin. She would kill him to prove she could fight; she would kill him to show a certain male that she was as good as any infantry soldier. She would kill him. She ignored the pain as he tried to release the sharp grip around his throat by beating her with his own fists and claws. She screamed incomprehensibly but didn't realise. And she struggled fiercely when strong arms lifted her away from her prey.  
  
All the Company had heard the sounds of the conflict, but none had dared come between the combatants, none but the Uruk-Hai. Bagshash struggled to hold the squirming Gorplak back, while Ugluk hoisted a glowering Drusbruk to his feet. Lurtz remained at a dignified distance, eyeing the scene in amusement.  
  
"And what do we have here?" He asked. At once, Drusbruk became the ideal Corporal, ignoring the screaming agony of his previously broken ribs and nose. He saluted awkwardly.  
  
"She attacked me sir, right out of the blue." He said with a smirk, knowing he could get his revenge upon this little female who thought herself high enough to spurn his advances. "I had to defend myself sir."  
  
Lurtz said nothing, ominous in his silence. Instead of answering, he walked towards Gorplak. She was still breathing heavily, the blood lust still wild in her veins. As he neared her he smelt the sweet, sickly smell of blood that sent his senses rolling; an odour he craved that he had never before smelt. He lifted his finger to a gash on her cheek where Drusbruk had caught her, smeared it with blood and brought it to his lips. Yes, here was his very reason for being. Blood, blood and death.  
  
Bagshash watched Lurtz lick the blood, her blood, from his fingers with envy. The smell wrapped itself around him with every lurch Gorplak had made to be free, and he wished to taste it too. He had almost been tempted to rip Drusbruk's throat out as he stood there himself, to protect the small Orc he now encircled in his arms, but also to know the joy of killing that he knew he was meant to do but was as yet untried. Soon, he would know.  
  
The taste of the dark liquid awoke something within Lurtz and he rounded on Drusbruk, his eyes afire. "I now recommend fighting within the Company, it gives one the feeling of being alive." Drusbruk smiled unwittingly, thinking he had the upper hand, until Lurtz scowled at him. "But you should be ashamed. If a female can beat you, what hope do you have of surviving in the face of the enemy?" As Drusbruk stammered a response that he thought he was winning, Lurtz snarled at him to be silent. He wiped a hand over Drusbruk's neck, a neck glistening wet with dark blood oozing from a number of wounds. Lurtz stared at his now bloodstained hand before responding again. "Beware you do not bleed to death. Now be gone from my sight before I kill you myself, Morgoth knows you deserve it."  
  
Seeing her enemy disappear miserably, Gorplak felt some of her anger and battle lust fading. She felt the arms that held her release their grip and managed to lift her head to meet Lurtz's gaze.  
  
"For an Archer, you fight well." He said, indicating her tattoo of which Bagshash had informed him of the significance. "I congratulate you on a well fought match, which was none of your doing." Bagshash had also informed him of the history between the two opponents, and Lurtz knew the guilty party. "Now rest, we have a long way to go yet."  
  
Gorplak saluted. "Yes sir, thank you sir." Lurtz, Ugluk and the rest of the spectators left the scene, but she still felt the presence behind her. She knew who it was.  
  
"Did you see the fear in his eyes?" His voice in her ear made her shudder with delight; she closed her eyes and held her breath. "Did you taste the blood in the air?" The very sound of his deep tones rolled through her, leaving every nerve awake.  
  
"I did." She replied, whispering just as softly. A soft growl rumbled through him as he nuzzled her wounded cheek, seeking what was driving his body wild. Placing an arm around her waist and uncaring of who watched, his lips found the patch of blood and suckled upon it. Gorplak licked her own lips and ignored the stab of pain as he pulled at her wound, feeling a fresh flow of blood trickle towards his waiting lips. He fed upon it, and Gorplak barely suppressed a moan of pleasure. She could endure this torment no easier than the torture of the previous night, and nothing would stop her now. She murmured his name and turned in his arms, and let her hands caress his wrinkled features, running her fingers though the thick, tangled mane. In an instant his grip tightened, and their lips met, a gentle brush at first until it became more passionate, fiercer. Gorplak could taste her own blood on her lips, and it only made the kiss more insistent.  
  
All this was entirely new to Bagshash, but he found that an urge within him told him instinctively what to do, even as he began to pull her to the ground still with their gnarled lips entwined. It was only when Gorplak landed on one of her own sharp arrow heads that she momentarily released him and removed the offending article. But once broken apart, the two seemingly came to their senses, the battle-madness gone. Gorplak almost shyly met his gaze, and they smiled the same awkward smile they shared when they first met. Silence.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Gorplak frowned. "For what?" Bagshash shrugged.  
  
"I got carried away. The blood, the battle fever, it does strange things to people." He shrugged again, confused. Her heart sank.  
  
"All a mistake." She mumbled quietly. Bagshash didn't know what to say. It hadn't felt wrong, nothing in his short life had ever felt so right, but it was too fast. Everything was rushing past his head and he understood none of it. At least she had agreed with him. He nodded.  
  
"A pleasant mistake, but still..." He managed to smile weakly and stood up. "Rest. Like Lurtz said, we have a long way to go." It was with a great effort he turned and walked away, an uncomfortable feeling within him at the sight of her face that he wished would leave him.  
  
Vashlash watched the scene with interest. It was time to make her move on the delectable Bagshash. Gorplak was her friend but all was fair in love, war and the opposite sex. He would be hers.  
  
Gorplak struggled to ignore the pain in her own heart and tried to sleep once more, but her dreams were tortured by lips crushing hers and the smell of blood.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
I'm enjoying writing about blood too much… that's quite disturbing! So Drusbruk is more an enemy than ever, the lovers won't admit their feelings for each other, Vashlash is pondering trouble making, and they haven't even found the Fellowship yet! What does the future hold? Until next time dear reader! 


	5. Of huntings and hunters

Disclaimer – As usual. Gorplak, Bagshash and the rest are mine, otherwise hats off to the great man.  
  
A/N – Another long chapter and I've failed in my promise… the Fellowship will DEFINATELY be in the next chapter though, I tried to put them in this one but it was way too long! And don't worry Womba, they're not staying long, I'm too attached to my little Orcs and Uruk-Hai! Thanks to LOTR lover, Womba Warrior and Alon for the reviews too… if you don't mind Alon, I've used your suggestion in the previous chapter, Lurtz now says, "Morgoth knows you deserve it" to Drusbruk instead of "The Valar know blah blah blah." Credit where it's due… you don't mind if I borrow it? Thank you!! And now… the story continues! Hmm, and if you have a particular affection for rabbits… sorry!  
  
Chapter 5 – Of hunting's and hunters  
  
  
  
Bagshash walked beside Lurtz, striding purposefully through the forest, outside the borders of the camp, listening half-heartedly to what his leader was telling him, and remembering his first taste of blood and a female's lips.  
  
"So the archery division isn't up to scratch?" Lurtz asked.  
  
Bagshash feigned attention and shook his head. "A few are good shots, the rest are truly abysmal according to the Sergeant. Danglush his name is." Lurtz nodded, his plans falling into place. He explained them for the benefit of Bagshash.  
  
"Excellent. So we place the archers in the front row for an opening volley, let them be cut down, then get the infantry to attack, starting with Nudlik's squad, making sure everyone sees them slaughtered. As the rest run, the Fellowship kill them and we attack when they least suspect it to take the Ring." He grinned maliciously. "With they follow the Orcs making the feint attack, the Fellowship won't know what hit them."  
  
Lurtz was the military tactician so it took a few moments for Bagshash to comprehend his words. "You want the Orcs to fail?"  
  
"Of course!" He replied. "Do you really want to go back to Master Saruman with the Ring but have to give credit to a bunch of meek-willed, pathetic elvish cast-offs?"  
  
"Do they all have to die?" Bagshash asked quietly, the thought quite disturbing. Lurtz rounded on him.  
  
"Are you starting to get attached to these creatures? I warned both you and Ugluk; this alliance is temporary and will not be in force long. Only until this Company is dead."  
  
Bagshash was silent for a few moments, imagining bodies of the creatures he had come to know over the last night. No, if he were honest he imagined only one, green eyes that were once so alive now staring blankly as if in sleep. Something clenched inside him. Lurtz seemed to sense his weakening.  
  
"Are you as weak as them?" He asked, barely keeping the disgust out of his voice.  
  
Bagshash snorted briefly, clearing his mind and met Lurtz's intense gaze.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then see this mission through." Lurtz took the other's silence as a sigh of agreement.  
  
"We should reach the river tonight, then it will be at least three days before the Fellowship will leave the boats. I'm leaving Ugluk here, you and I will return to our comrades and inform them of the proceedings."  
  
"I would like to stay…"  
  
"I think that unwise." Lurtz cut him off. "We leave soon, before the next march begins. See to it you are ready." He stalked away without waiting for a reply.  
  
Bagshash watched him until he was out of sight, and slammed his fist into a nearby tree trunk with a shout of rage. The tree gave a great groan, and the bark cracked and snapped beneath his hand. He barely noticed the blood flowing from his knuckles.  
  
Someone else did.  
  
"You shouldn't let him get to you; you should be in command, not him." The voice came from behind him, a female voice, and for a moment his heart leapt. But even after a few words he knew it was not her, the voice too deep, the tone too seductive after what they had shared. A hand pulled his, examining the injury. He turned, knowing what he would find.  
  
"Private Vashlash." He greeted her formally, and she smiled slowly, revealing black shards of rotting enamel. She blinked slowly, her eyes never leaving him.  
  
"So, have you come to your senses?" Bagshash frowned incomprehensively. "Archer females not to your taste?" She smiled again, and Bagshash knew what she was referring to. He wanted no reminder of that; it still sent a spasm of something through his body with every memory.  
  
Vashlash continued to gaze at him, running a finger over his blooded hand, she slowly raised it to her lips, licked it, and her eyes closed for a moment. As they reopened, Bagshash saw a spark alight in her eyes, and a growl arose from her throat.  
  
Noticing his hand for the first time, he saw the dark blood, smelled it's sweet enticement, and felt the urge for more pass through him again.  
  
Vashlash smiled at the response she had been looking for. "I have tasted you, now you must taste mine." She watched as his uninjured hand clenched and opened, in his struggle to maintain his composure. "Taste it!" She willed him, her breath becoming heavier. Bagshash almost gave in.  
  
"No." He said hesitantly.  
  
There was silence for a few moments as she started at him in astonishment. "No?"  
  
"No."  
  
She laughed humourlessly. "You would choose a pitiful creature like Gorplak over me? A worthless, ugly beast with no…"  
  
A blow to her face made her silent. In his anger at her words, Bagshash lashed out, at the last moment his fist unclenching so his claws slashed over her cheek. Vashlash brought a hand up to her injury to stop the blood spilling down and marvelled at the anger in his eyes.  
  
  
  
It was early evening before Gorplak was roused; still too light for the liking of the Orcs but darkness was slowly falling where the sun's rays could no longer stretch right across the sky. It was not a hand that roused her, but her stomach, needing food. Pausing for a moment to decide if she wanted to risk the dusk, she set off for the boundaries of the camp, hoping for a hunting expedition. One had not been set in the hurry for departure the previous evening so she assumed that the sentry's had been given permission to let soldiers leave for food, as was the standard practise. Off to kill, her bow on her back, Gorplak's spirits rose slightly from Bagshash's rejection. She shook any thoughts of that away, her dreams had been disturbing enough without them invading on reality.  
  
Raising a hand to the sentry on duty and promising them whatever she could catch, she walked out into an undisturbed area of the forest, hoping to find some creatures feeding in the shadowy woodland. Slowing, and treading more carefully so as not to disturb her food, she crept through the leaves, trying not to breathe in the foul scent from the flowering bushes; their odious smell contaminating the air. A gentle patter drew her attention. She smiled. Rabbits, perfect.  
  
She lifted her bow from her shoulders, as quietly as possible, and reached for an arrow from her quiver. Notching it, she stretched out the bow, aimed, and released. At the sound of the arrow through the air, all the rabbits bar the one she had hit stood straight and still, leaving her time to draw another arrow and bag a second. As she stepped forwards to claim her prizes, the rest of the warren fled leaving the two bloody heaps behind. She removed the arrows for later use, returning them to the quiver and took the two dead rabbits by the ears; one for herself and one as promised to the sentry. She could almost taste it, making her stomach begin to growl at the thought so she turned back for camp, but something held her attention.  
  
Voices. Perhaps… yes, voices. She thought to ignore it until she realised one had a distinctly female quality. There was no foreign scent on the air, so they were Orcs then. Vashlash. Gorplak knew she should not intrude upon her friend, but perhaps she would wish to share a meal. No harm in asking. She followed the voices a little way and froze as she caught sight of two very familiar figures. Vashlash… and Bagshash.  
  
Gorplak felt numb. She wished she felt something: anger, hatred, sadness, but nothing came. The smell of blood had permeated the air about her, and she had seen the look Vashlash currently had in her eye many times; lust. So Bagshash had made his choice. Her mind told her body to leave the two in peace, but her body refused to leave, so she watched, unnoticed.  
  
  
  
She laughed again, this one more amused than the last. "A much better choice." He pulled her hand from her face angrily, trying desperately to ignore the fresh blood tantalizingly close. She whispered hoarsely into his ear, "Taste it."  
  
Bagshash was helpless now, the sweet stench of blood filling every pore, every thought, so he succumbed. He closed his eyes, letting his sense of smell guide him to the source of his search. He ran a hesitant lip over the blood he had spilt, savouring it as before. Vashlash let out a contented sigh.  
  
  
  
Gorplak saw him lean across to the blooded cheek and taste it, and heard Vashlash's sigh of pleasure. It was then that she decided she had seen enough. Creeping away just as silently as she had approached she left the two lovers in peace, wishing only for silence. She cursed herself. For being so stupid to believe he could possibly resist the ugliness of Vashlash, for being foolish enough to entice him to kiss her, for being idiotic enough to start to fall in lo…  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut but still the words progressed in her head. To fall in love with a complete stranger.  
  
Love, there was a concept she had thought long buried. The lack of it had kept her alive for millennia, reminding herself she didn't need it, didn't need anything bright in her life anymore. And now, just when she had remembered how it could be, it was ripped from her.  
  
Taking a firmer grip on the carcasses in her hands, she fought to ignore the cold clutching pain in her heart. Grief would find no hold to poison her, to cause her to fester; she had been through too much to let such a simple thing stop her now. It made her raise her head and walk on. Back at camp, she passed a rabbit on to the sentry and went back to her seat. She even managed to be civil to Nudlik as he passed and enquired about Vashlash's whereabouts, not even flinching at the thought of her rival. She directed him out towards where she had last seen them, and he left her to stripping her food with rather more violence than was strictly necessary.  
  
  
  
Fresh blood, a willing female, a quiet forest glade, all should have felt absolutely right to Bagshash… and yet something within him was holding him back. Perhaps it was the smell. All too clearly he remembered the scent of another female who had been willing to share her blood with him and nothing could rid it from him. He pulled back from Vashlash and was surprised by what he saw reflected in her eyes.  
  
There was triumph in those red eyes. Triumph? He was not prey, not a catch; she was no hunter, it was the blood of another that had snared him, that he wanted. And it was those other eyes he wanted to stare into now, eyes that would meet his with nothing but compassion and feeling. Time to stop this nonsense.  
  
"I think you should return to camp." At his words, her head jerked slightly, they were not the words she had been expecting. "You march soon, the night draws near."  
  
"There is still time for us to…"  
  
He interrupted her. "Go back to camp. Go and find a male who wants your blood as much as you want his. I'm sure there will be many volunteers."  
  
She hissed in anger at his words, disbelieving. "You're turning me down?" A realisation hit her. "For Gorplak? That… Archer?" It was the best insult she could think of.  
  
"Go to the Grey Havens." Bagshash told her smartly. "Where you belong." He began to walk away. "Goodbye Private Vashlash. Tell Archer Gorplak she will shine brighter in my mind than any star above."  
  
Vashlash watched him go in contempt. "Go to Morgoth, you and your archer female." If he heard he gave no signal of it. Males, she thought exasperatedly. That was one message she would not be passing on… but why should she need to? Bagshash could just tell her himself. Unless he were leaving camp with Lurtz as Danglush had told her earlier. She smiled to herself. You can't defend yourself from rumours when you're not there.  
  
Vashlash loved being evil.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Crikey, romantic Uruk-Hai's and scheming Orcs… whatever next! Bless Bagshash's little heart, and curse Vashlash's devious little mind! So there we have it, more problems for the lovers… will it all end in tears? I know, but you'll just have to wait and see! Until next time dear reader! 


	6. Pain, eyesores and healings

Disclaimer – Fellowship, Lurtz and Ugluk not mine, the Orcs I've given characters are. That's it!  
  
AN – Hmm, the story seemed to have vanished from the lists for a while but my faithful minion… er reader, Womba Warrior managed to hunt it down and leave another lovely review so here's another chapter to show my gratitude to you! Finally… fanfare The Fellowship! Enjoy them while you can because they're not the stars of this fic! On with the story!  
  
Chapter 6 – Pain, eyesores and healings  
  
  
  
Gorplak ate the raw blooded meat slowly, carefully chewing but tasting nothing, eyes fixed upon the camp boundaries waiting for either of them to make an appearance. The sun was slowly setting now, and orders for the march had been given, yet still the pair of lovers had not emerged from their wooded hideaway. Gorplak watched still, and could not quell the sorrow and hatred in her heart. If Bagshash had chosen another he could at least have spared her feelings. She snorted, briefly closing her eyes; he didn't feel pain so why would he wish to spare others of its torture. And torture it was.  
  
Nothing in her long life had ever have prepared her for the twisting, grinding pain that infected every part of her and made her close her eyes occasionally in despair. Worst of all was the ache in her heart; a cold, relentless ache that made her dizzy with its sting. It made her oblivious to everything around her.  
  
Almost everything.  
  
The moment Vashlash appeared, Gorplak had to force down an uncomprehendingly pleasant urge to rip her head off. Instead she bit down on the bloody meat, images of a dark liquid flowing through her head. To her dismay, Vashlash meandered over to where she sat, and picked up a hind leg Gorplak had been saving. She sighed contentedly, smiling slightly, and begging Gorplak with her gaze to ask her where she had been.  
  
Gorplak ignored it.  
  
Finally Vashlash could stand the silence no longer. "So… ask me where I've been!" Gorplak finished chewing slowly. Be calm, she told herself, be calm.  
  
"Where have you been." She asked as requested. Vashlash gushed happily.  
  
"With Bagshash." She smiled at the discomfort that Gorplak tried so desperately not to show. "They say the Uruk-Hai are superior to Orcs, and it's true." She left enough unsaid to convey the double meaning in her words, but was disappointed by Gorplak's lack of response.  
  
"I hope you're not too tired to march, the orders have been given." Gorplak replied without enthusiasm, insides churning at the confirmation of what she had seen. She still wanted desperately to severely harm the triumphant female along side her but resisted by driving a sharp nail deeper into the hunk of meat she had abandoned eating. She was spared a response as she saw Vashlash stiffen. She found Nudlik approaching and wondered what the source of Vashlash's discomfort was; the two had always seemed to get on well, in fact many rumours flew round that the two were frequent lovers. Gorplak had always believed it at least, and a bitter thought entered her head: why should Vashlash need a lover on top of this fine specimen? It brought a fresh coil of pain.  
  
Nudlik threw a dashingly ugly smile in Vashlash's direction, which she blatantly ignored. "Yes?" She asked coldly.  
  
The smile on his face faded to be replaced with confusion. He seemed about to speak but words seemed to fail him.  
  
"If you're not going to say anything then go away." Vashlash snapped at him. Nudlik straightened with a strange look on his scarred face, and Gorplak realised it was a look she too must be wearing: the look of a spurned lover. A sympathetic smile crept over her face, Nudlik noticed it and nodded thankfully in her direction before moving away again.  
  
"Don't know what I ever saw in him." Vashlash confided to Gorplak after his departure. "Compared to Bagshash he's a little maggoty runt." That wasn't what Gorplak wanted to hear, she had always admired Nudlik from afar, but the comparison to Bagshash disheartened her even more. She remained silent, lost in a depth of misery she hadn't known possible. Even her Orcish initiations seemed better than this darkness, at least that had given her a channel for her anger and hatred; this was caused by her own pathetic needs and there was no one to blame but herself. She saw those strong arms that had held her so tight now around another, those urgent lips giving pleasure to someone else, and she wallowed in self-pity.  
  
Vashlash watched Gorplak's reaction to the situation for a few moments, annoyed that she had taken to the ruse so lightly. No screams or tantrums, not even an admission of how she felt. Vashlash wondered if she should stick the knife any deeper into the wound she had caused her friend but realised she couldn't; Gorplak was indeed her friend and Vashlash had already caused her much pain, that much was obvious from her always open face. And she had shared the meat she had caught. Vashlash wasn't completely wicked.  
  
Soon the order to recommence the march came through, Gorplak and Vashlash shouldered their weapons and fell into ranks. Into the night they ran.  
  
  
  
The pair of females went in silence through the dark forest, each lost in their own thoughts. A few hours into the march, the column veered sharply to the left, and through the dense vegetation the occasional glimpse of gently rippling water was visible, silver spots dancing on it's surface in the moonlight. Gorplak, beginning to drag herself from her pit of misery, glanced out over the quiet waters of the Anduin; it made a change of scenery to the unceasing forest floor beneath her feet. A whisper was slowly passing down the line, drawing attention slightly further downstream. Gorplak focused her eyes where the rumour suggested and they widened as she spied three small boats floating gently along. So the enemy was finally in sight.  
  
A sound of disgust emerged from Vashlash's throat, breaking the silence. "There's an Elf. It's HIDEOUS!" Gorplak followed the pointed finger to where blond hair glinted and could not resist her own cry of horror; even from this distance, its beautiful features were obvious.  
  
"Dear Morgoth!" The curse from behind them sounded out. She glanced briefly over her shoulder to see Nudlik running behind with him mouth gaping at the perfection of the Elf. "Be glad you'll never have to meet that in a forest on a bright day." He joked.  
  
"Perhaps but I'd rather mate with that than you." Vashlash threw back at him. Gorplak snorted briefly in amusement until she realised Vashlash wasn't jesting. The other female could be comical when she wanted but this comment was purely aimed at Nudlik as an insult; Gorplak put it down to missing her new lover. She didn't even think his name.  
  
Nudlik opened his mouth to form a retort but before he had chance, the hulking form of Ugluk bore down on them. "Silence from now on. That's an order." He hissed at them, before continuing further down the column and passing on the command. The trio fell silent and Gorplak once more studied the boats; they had slowly gained on the vessels and were now drawing level, soon they would overtake completely. Trying to avoid looking at the eyesore in the back of the boat, she noticed what looked like a dwarf sitting in the bow. Perhaps the dwarf and the elf would kill each other, saving them the work, Gorplak thought to herself, before moving her eyes on. The other two boats held a human and two smaller beings, the infamous halflings. Shouldn't be too much trouble, how much of a fight could eight put up against a whole Company of Orcs? There shouldn't be many casualties on their side, perhaps Vashlash could be among them? Gorplak was disgusted at herself, that thought was far too evil to wish on her friend; after all, all was fair in love, war and the opposite sex. She could have him.  
  
With the release of that admission, true or not, Gorplak felt much better. She breathed in the cold air and ran on, her enemy behind her, her life in front.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Okay, there goes the Fellowship for a little while, hope you enjoyed them! So Vashlash's evil plan has been put into action and poor Gorplak is falling for it, what will happen next? Will Bagshash return to put Vashlash back in her place or will Drusbruk help heal Gorplak's broken heart? Or will Nudlik need comfort from Vashlash's insults and find it? Find out which in the next chapter! Until than dear reader! 


	7. A rescue

Disclaimer – Ugluk and Lurtz still not mine, neither are the Fellowship from the last chapter. Only Gorplak, Bagshash and the like are mine.  
  
A/N – Sorry it's been a while, my computer decided to go haywire and assignments unfortunately take precedence. Anyway, thank you Womba Warrior for the review (and for reviewing all my other stuff too… you are now promoted to chief minion!!), and now some of the previous questions will be answered, but not all because I want to keep you in suspense a little longer! On the show… tally-ho!  
  
Chapter 7 – A rescue  
  
The Company of Orcs followed the river all through the dark night, silence enforced by the sharp sting of Ugluk's whip when his order was disobeyed. It was harsh but fair; if their enemy behind them on the river discovered their presence then it would all be for naught. They ran as the moon began fade and the slow light of dawn began to light the sky, and even then they kept running. A few murmurs erupted from the column but still Ugluk forced them onwards, his whip cracking without prejudice as he even stuck a surprised Captain Gagnik. He hissed a few words reminding Gagnik of the plan for a daylight attack and of acclimatising the troops so the column obediently ran onwards.  
  
Further back from the front, Gorplak and Vashlash also ran on, still side-by-side and silent, but growing more confused with the increasing light. True, the forest was heavy enough to give some shelter but in places, patches of dappled sunshine broke through the canopy above and drove the Orcs out of rank as they tried their best to avoid the worst of the dreaded rays. Vashlash's mumbling over the last few hours finally grew to a head.  
  
"When is the son of an elf going to let us stop?" She complained dejectedly. Gorplak refrained from answering but it seemed that Ugluk had heard and responded to her comment, as the column came to a thankful stop and the fall-out order was given. Vashlash threw herself to the ground with a hiss before quickly jumping to her feet and moving as a stray shaft of sunlight threatened her, while Gorplak smirked and found her own dark patch.  
  
After a period of silence, Gorplak looked over to find Vashlash sound asleep, her eyes open but glazed, a small smile on her twisted features, and tried not to think of what was causing that happiness. Leaving her to dream of blood and pleasure, Gorplak rose to her feet, unfatigued, and wandered to relieve the stiffness of her limbs. Staying within the swiftly arranged camp boundaries, she avoided any clearings and remained among the dense trees, enjoying the coldness of the shadows out of the sun. Once a bird twittered merrily but she growled in its direction and it quickly took flight; from then only silence accompanied her, or at least so she had thought.  
  
"Archer."  
  
The tone was formal, yet it seemed strange in the voice that greeted her. She replied with the same formality, quelling an impulse to turn quickly and sink her claws into the intruder's neck again.  
  
"Corporal."  
  
She turned slowly to face Drusbruk, prepared to defend herself if needs be, but she was greeted with a sight she had seen very rarely on the smooth face in front of her – respect.  
  
"I wanted to… apologise." He said, holding out a hand in a sign of comradeship. Gorplak stood still for a moment, a little stunned; his broken nose was still swollen and she doubted it would ever be straight again, was that all it had taken to make Drusbruk less of an enemy? He saw the indecision and confusion on her face. "I should be dead by your hands, and I'm not. But you had every right to try." He took a deep breath.  
  
"I'm sorry for trying to force myself on you over the years." He tried to smile sincerely. Gorplak wasn't sure she was entirely trustful of the seemingly repentant Orc in front of her, but still accepted his apology by nodding and meeting his hand with hers. It was only after a firm shake when she looked in her eyes and realised her terrible mistake.  
  
  
  
Lurtz was happy to be among his own kind again, the sense of familiarity had grown since their creation and he preferred it to the frustration he had felt at the Orcs under his command. Bagshash, on the other hand, sorely missed the company of the friends he had made among the Orcs; Danglush's easy humour, Nudlik's gentle acceptance of a fellow warrior, and Gorplak… he missed those green eyes, the limp locks, her ugly face, her ugly ugly lips that he had tasted only once that felt a lifetime ago. Compared to the Uruk-Hai around him, the Orcs had a life, a social structure that he had been part of for a few brief moments, and he missed it.  
  
And that wasn't all that tore at him. There was the knowledge that Lurtz had condemned them all to death.  
  
He had said nothing to Lurtz about it, in case of a reprisal, but all the while he wished there were some way of passing on the warning, especially to an archer who would find herself in the thick of the fighting, facing an enemy that had slaughtered twice the number of the Company in the dark underground of Moria. But how?  
  
Having briefed the Uruk-Hai he had left in temporary command, Lurtz was happy that all was going to plan, until he was informed of a minor dispute that had resulted in the gutting of one of his officers. This was unwelcome news; now he was one officer down with the only possible replacement urging the Orcs onward a few hours run away. An undesirable occurrence, but it could be remedied.  
  
He bellowed for a soldier he could trust to take the message to Ugluk and control the Orcs, and Bagshash heard it, realising he had found his opportunity.  
  
"I think I should go." He declared. A hush fell, for Lurtz was the unproclaimed leader and they knew what had happened to those who had opposed him before… they had never taken another step. Lurtz frowned at the bold statement.  
  
"I disagree." He took a step nearer to Bagshash, trying to intimidate the other Uruk-Hai to back down, but Bagshash held his head higher.  
  
"I will go."  
  
Lurtz growled at the insubordinate tone. He lashed out an opened hand in his opponent's direction, intending to slash his face to ribbons with his sharp claws but Bagshash was just as prepared for a fight. He caught the hand before it could inflict any damage and spoke again, "I will go."  
  
The two stared at each for a few moments, Bagshash hiding any nervousness and Lurtz trying to detect it so he could justify any action. Nevertheless, he could find none, and the suggestion did make sense; the Orcs were accustomed to Bagshash which may help their submissiveness. Still, the hold around his wrist was a little too insolent. He whipped it free with a snarl.  
  
"Be thankful your brain is better than your strength," Lurtz threw the insult mildly, "For your offer makes sense and your grip would not have held me back." Bagshash remained hopefully silent. "Relieve Ugluk and send him back. Then proceed with the plans."  
  
Bagshash's heart leapt, but he was careful not to betray it. He nodded and turned back the way they had come, back towards the Orc that had bewitched him so.  
  
Gorplak, I'm coming.  
  
  
  
The respectful smile turned to a spiteful sneer as Drusbruk used her grip on his hand to pull her forwards. Gorplak was helpless to resist the force as her feet slipped, finding no purchase on the clammy, muddy forest floor. As she sailed forward Drusbruk deliberately tripped her, so she landed heavily on the ground, one arm pinned behind her by Drusbruk's hold on her arm, the other stuck uselessly beneath her own body from where she had tried to stop her fall. Drusbruk lay heavily on top of her, trapping her down, forcing her front into the mud.  
  
"You of all people should know that one fight won't end a war meltha." He gloated as she tried desperately to dislodge him from on top of her. Sensing her struggles he ground her head further into the mud, the viscous slime filling her mouth, stopping her from breathing. After she ceased her struggling to conserve her air, Drusbruk pulled her up and began dragging her quickly forward; so glad Gorplak was of air and the chance to spit the mud from her mouth, she didn't even see the tree in front of her until she was slammed against it. What little air she had accumulated was forced out of her and her vision narrowed slightly at the impact.  
  
Dazed, she didn't even notice the restraining hand gone from her until it hit her sharply in the stomach, swiftly followed by another. Bend double and gasping she tried to run, but Drusbruk wasn't finished yet; he swung his knee up and that was all Gorplak could see rushing toward her. She had the good sense to swing her body sideways to try and avoid it, but it still caught her chin heavily.  
  
It hurt. The blow had forced her backwards and she had fallen to the ground again, rolling onto her back to see what was coming next. Oh but it hurt. That and Drusbruk's stupidly grinning face was all she could think about. With an effort she focused her vision on Drusbruk once more, blinking dark blood from her eyes, her blood, trying to raise herself up from the vulnerable position she was in. She succeeded a few inches until her strength failed her, and Drusbruk took the opportunity to kick her soundly in the ribs. She rolled with the momentum, no longer thinking how to attack, but how to stay alive. She lay on the ground, face down and waited for the next blow.  
  
Which never came.  
  
She was unaware of the third party that had heard the fight, was unaware that someone had intervened on her behalf, and was unaware that Drusbruk had run before a serious beating was given to him in return. All she became aware of was a hand on her shoulder, strangely unthreatening.  
  
After a moment it moved, and grasped her shoulders, lifting her gently from the floor… such strong arms. They lifted her gently to her feet; although she stumbled she managed to stay upright as they continued to support her. Wearily she turned to face her rescuer.  
  
"Nudlik?"  
  
  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
A-ha! Did you think it was Bagshash? Huh? Did you? It was going to be but I have further plans afoot. So, still some unanswered questions but I'll try not to leave it quite so long again! Until next time dear reader! 


	8. Misunderstandings

Disclaimer – The ideas of Orcs and Uruk-Hai are not mine, nor are Lurtz and Ugluk. Making no money… that would be nice but it won't happen.  
  
A/N – Horrid assignments, exams and performing plays has somewhat distracted me, sorry, still - here's the next installement! Thanks to Amarth, Womba Warrior and Phantom for the reviews, I try to keep my minions/readers happy!! On with the show!  
  
Chapter 8 – Misunderstandings  
  
Gorplak almost fell again but Nudlik strengthened his hold around her waist and pulled her closer to him to keep her upright. With the gentleness of a lover he wiped the blood from the laceration on her forehead that slowly tricked in dark tributaries down into her eyes. Gorplak closed her eyes in pain, still reeling from the beating she had received. Her head felt as though it would surely explode, the pressure against her skull growing with any move she made, pulsing and throbbing. She was barely aware of the close hold that was around her, nor the tender fingers wiping the blood from her face. Still barely believing she was safe, her body was still tense to take any more blows that were aimed at her, but as none where forthcoming she lowly relaxed against her saviour. Nudlik felt her melt onto him, and feared the worst.  
  
"Gorplak?" He called her name, relieved as she slowly opened her eyes and focused them with pain and difficulty. He managed a brief, twisted smile; of course she was still alive, she had always been such a fighter. He gently stroked her plume of hair, taking care not to jar her too much; he had seen most of the fight and knew how much she must hurt. Gorplak was still, trying to remember a time without pain, when it didn't hurt to breathe, to think.  
  
For hours it seemed she stood there, head resting on Nudlik's strong shoulder, waves of pain washing through her from head to toe, but slowly it ebbed, and she felt ready enough to face the world alone. Nudlik seemed to sense her decision and loosened his grip on her as she braced herself against him, and slowly, gently, stood by herself.  
  
To promptly fall over.  
  
Fighting a threatening blackness that momentarily cruised through her, Gorplak reminded on the floor, pain biting her once more. In an instant she felt Nudlik beside her once more, comforting and stable. She tried to raise herself once more but he physically pushed her back.  
  
"You'd better stay where you are." He offered. Gorplak hated to admit it but he was right, she couldn't fall any further from where she was. How she hated this. She had been so naïve, and now she was so helpless, and Nudlik of all people was there to see it. Still, she thought to herself, it could be worse; Vashlash could be here to witness her disgrace.  
  
"Gorplak!"  
  
Gorplak winced. That voice. So here it was, her worst dream, coming true.  
  
Vashlash paused a little way from her friend, taking in the blood, Gorplak prostrate on the floor, the sight of Nudlik so close to her and instantly jumped to conclusions.  
  
"Found a replacement for me so soon Nudlik?" She sneered at him, and glared hatefully at Gorplak. By stealing Bagshash by rumour she had not expected this. Luckily Gorplak missed the vengeful stare. Nudlik frowned in confusion of her words, but realization finally dawned. He glared at Vashlash for a few moments, sad to see his favourite female so untrustworthy of him.  
  
"Drusbruk attacked her again."  
  
Vashlash's own realization was visible as her red eyes opened wide. The she rushed towards her friend, guilty from assuming the worst.  
  
"Poor little goblin," She cried affectionately, fussing around Gorplak, smoothing hair and stroking skin. Gorplak took the attack passively at first but as Vashlash's ministrations increased it took all her power to remain silent. Her saviour came to the rescue again.  
  
"Vashlash, go and get Ugluk, he needs to know about this." Nudlik said, grasping Vashlash's hands so they couldn't do any more damage to the fragile Orc between them.  
  
"We don't need Ugluk," Vashlash began vehemently, "All we need is Drusbruk, a quiet clearing, assorted weaponry and lots of time." This raised a small smile from Gorplak, as had been Vashlash's intention.  
  
"Go and get Ugluk." Nudlik repeated. For a moment Vashlash didn't move and seemed close to making another comment, but eventually stood without protest. Clasping Gorplak's hands once, she left. Nudlik watched her go. Gorplak watched Nudlik, finding a time to voice her question.  
  
"You two were a couple weren't you?"  
  
Nudlik didn't respond for a few moments, but eventually he nodded, confirming her suspicions.  
  
"It must be hard…" Gorplak began, thinking of Vashlash's actions, but Nudlik cut her off.  
  
"She has always acted so coldly. That's what drew me to her. But underneath she has so much life and emotion." Silence fell between the two companions for a short while, before Nudlik continued. "You'd think I would grow accustomed to it, especially now."  
  
Gorplak smiled in sympathy. "How we suffer at the hands of those we hold dear." She spoke philosophically. With her words came another pain, and this one was not physical. Nudlik saw her look of grief.  
  
"I assume you and Bagshash become closely acquainted during his stay?" The hardening of her face at his name answered his question better than words could. He placed a comforting arm lightly around her shoulders. "He will come back, don't fret over it."  
  
Gorplak shot him a look. "You think I want him back? After what he has done. Would you take Vashlash back so easily?"  
  
"I haven't lost her, why shouldn't I take her back?" Nudlik frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
Gorplak closed her eyes. She though Nudlik knew, but it seemed he was oblivious to Vashlash's adultery. But how to break it to him gently.  
  
"Nudlik, you remember after the marching orders were given last night. You were looking for Vashlash and I pointed you off to the woods? She wasn't alone. She was with Bagshash."  
  
Nudlik interrupted briefly. "They spoke for a while. She told me all about it." Gorplak shook her head, but regretted it as pain coursed through her again.  
  
"They did more than speaking."  
  
Nudlik rounded on her swiftly, this time taking a firm grasp on her shoulder so she had to swallow a cry. "What do you mean Gorplak?" He asked, frowning again.  
  
"I saw them. Together." She paused, seeing the memory a little more vividly than she would have liked. "He hit her, then fed upon her blood." She met Nudlik's eyes, inwardly flinching from the anger she saw there. "I saw it. That's why you couldn't find her in the woods. She was with him."  
  
There was a pause as Nudlik digested her information. And then… he laughed and hugged Gorplak happily.  
  
"I did find Vashlash, " He said against her hair. "Bagshash had gone and she told me everything. You needn't worry, Bagshash and Vashlash…"  
  
He was interrupted.  
  
"GET OFF HER!"  
  
  
  
Vashlash went at a slow jog, eyes darting around and looking for Ugluk. Finally she laid eyes on the huge Uruk-Hai, staring out over the river, looking back at their enemy who were slowly gaining on their position.  
  
"Sir!" She called out quietly and immediately the figure turned to silence her. Red eyes met orange eyes and Vashlash glowered in anger at the sight. Bagshash.  
  
Bagshash wasn't overjoyed to see Vashlash either. He had hoped to avoid her on the rest of the trip, how ironic that she should be the first to discover his return. He walked away from the river, not wanting any conversation to be overheard by the sharp-eared monsters on the river. "What do you want Vashlash?"  
  
"Nothing from you." Vashlash spoke quickly and angrily, their last meeting still in her mind. But this was not the time; Gorplak needed helping and that was uppermost in her mind. She spoke again, less angry this time. "Drusbruk attacked Gorplak again."  
  
Bagshash feared the worst. Images flashed through his mind, images of Gorplak lying broken and twisted, dying, dead…  
  
"Where is she?" He growled. Vashlash saw the hatred flash across his eyes; not hatred for her but for someone else, Vashlash pitied Drusbruk once Bagshash got his hands on him. So his feelings for Gorplak still ran strong? She indicated for Bagshash to follow her and ran back.  
  
The few moments it took for them to reach her felt an eternity to Bagshash. And the sight that greeted him filled him with more hatred than he could possibly imagine.  
  
"GET OFF HER!" He hadn't even realised he had screamed the words as he sought to wrench the son of an elf that dared lay a finger on his Orc. Wrapped in another's arms was not one of the images that had struck him, so he grabbed Nudlik by the scruff of the neck and pulled him from Gorplak. Nudlik protested wildly and lashed out at Bagshash but Vashlash held him back while he shouted madly. Through the chaos a lone voice pleaded for calmness. Vashlash heeded Gorplak's words and took a gently hold on Nudlik's shoulder.  
  
"Leave it." Nudlik still glared at Bagshash, certain he would win in a straight fight, but he slowly conceded to his lovers point. "Let's go." She pulled him away and they left, Bagshash's eyes following them. Gorplak couldn't even look at him.  
  
Why? She thought she was over him. She was so certain the healing process had begun. So why did it hurt so much to see him standing in front of her?  
  
Why? Why wouldn't she even look at him? Bagshash wanted more than anything to see luminous eyes meeting his with a shy smile. He bent over her, but still she avoided his gaze. He studied her face; the cut on her cheek had healed since their last meeting, but a new gash ran across her forehead above her left eye. Raising a hand he reached out and stroked her rough cheek, seeing a shudder run through her but no other reaction.  
  
His skin against her cheek almost made her cry out. The longing was still strong inside her but he had no right to do this to her, not after what he had done.  
  
"Gorplak?" She shuddered again as he spoke her name, whether with pleasure or hatred she didn't know.  
  
"Look at me Gorplak." His tone was almost pleading. Slowly she turned her eyes to his, fearing what she might see.  
  
Compassion.  
  
Orange eyes filled with compassion, burning into hers as though his own life would heal her.  
  
"Gorplak, are you well?" He asked. She nodded, and was surprised as Bagshash pulled her towards him and enveloped her in a gentle embrace. She was too weak and too confused to resist. She felt lips brushing her hair. "I was so worried. So worried." Bagshash spoke rapidly, confessing what was within him. "I was wrong Gorplak. Wrong. What happened between us, it was no mistake. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry. Forgive me."  
  
She struggled to understand his words. "What?"  
  
He relaxed his grip so he could see her face, her eyes. He cradled her cheeks in his hands. "It was so rushed I thought it was wrong. But I was wrong. I missed you like I miss dark in the day."  
  
Gorplak shook her head. "No." Bagshash was confused but still held her. She tried again. "You can't do this to me. Not now."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Get off me."  
  
Bagshash did not relinquish his hold.  
  
"GET OFF ME!" Gorplak cried, batting his hands away. "It's too late for us." With a shock, Bagshash dropped his arms. He was silent with shock, staring at the female who meant so much to him. Gorplak herself struggled for breath, struggled for the right words, but they escaped her.  
  
"It's too late." She repeated again, fighting to restrain the urge to reach out and stroke the ugly face that stared at her so unbelievingly.  
  
"It's because of him isn't it." She barely heard his words, but she saw the anger rising in his eyes again. She closed her eyes and shook her head in exasperation.  
  
"Don't blame this on anyone but yourself Bagshash." She started to turn away but in a moment he was beside her again, trapping her in an embrace and harsh lips bruised hers. Gorplak surrendered to the feeling she had craved since that first morning, loosing herself, forgetting…  
  
No, she couldn't forget. Her head pounding and not because of the fight she pushed herself out of the embrace. Edging back she found her feet, grateful they didn't collapse beneath her again. "Leave me alone. Go and find your other female."  
  
"And you run to your pitiful little Orc male. Be glad he's still alive." Bagshash called out after her spitefully, ignoring a chewing feeling at his insides which he might have called pain had he known any better. Gorplak had a name for it, and wished she didn't, it hurt more than any physical wound ever could. Both treasured the feeling of the others lips, possibly for the last time.  
  
Gorplak ran, and neither could express how much they loved the other, nor how hurtful their parting comments had been.  
  
  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Oh dear, everyone's got the wrong idea about everyone else, but how long until the lovers forgive each other? Is there anything to forgive? And will Drusbruk get what's coming to him? Oh, I'll have fun with that chapter!! Well they say the course of true love ne'er runs smooth! Until next time dear reader! 


	9. One sided revelations

Disclaimer – only the Orcs and Uruk-Hai I've given characters to are mine, that's it. I merely live in a world I don't own.  
  
A/N – Thanks to LOTR Lover, Amarth and Womba Warrior for the reviews. LOTR Lover – the idea of reversals is what compelled me to write, and Amarth and Womba – you feel sorry for them now… just you wait! I'm giving no clues away to the ending though, at least not yet. And sorry it's taken so long to update, I had a severe case of inspiration for my forward fic – it was so painful I just had to do something about it. Anyway, on, on!  
  
Chapter 9 – One Sided Revelations  
  
Hate.  
  
Blind, consuming, blood pounding hate.  
  
How he hated. How he hated Vashlash, how he hated Nudlik, how he hated Drusbruk. How he hated all the Orcs that a few moments ago had meant so much to him. All but one, and her luminous orbs filled with pain running from him was a sight he would never forget.  
  
For a moment he stood still, wallowing in his loathing of everything except one, until a tentative voice disturbed him. "Sir?"  
  
Bagshash swung around to face the voice, ready to lash out, to kill. Captain Gagnik flinched and recoiled away from the raised fist that could have headed in his direction, and stood quivering. Bagshash checked his initial anger, managing to push out a relatively calm question.  
  
"What do you want?  
  
Gagnik gulped before speaking. "I was wondering, sir, if we can have permission to go deeper into the trees. The sun you see sir, the troops are finding it difficult to manage…"  
  
"The point of the exercise is that they acclimatize to the sun, I hope you haven't forget that Captain." Bagshash said, finding his position in command as an easy outlet for his anger. "In fact," He added quickly. "I intend to start moving again within the hour. See the troops are ready."  
  
"But sir, it's hardly after noon, and we were travelling all…"  
  
"Do it." Bagshash ordered, raising a hand threateningly. Gagnik squeaked and promptly ran away to carry out the order, and Bagshash realised he was punishing the entire company just for the way a few had treated him, but he didn't care, it felt… good. Well, he pondered to himself, we were fashioned to be cruel; I'm doing what I was created for. With a new purpose in mind, he went to check on his enemies on the river. They were still behind but gaining slowly. Bagshash stared at them with a new sense of hate in his mind; soon, soon.  
  
  
  
Gorplak ran from Bagshash in pain and sadness. How dare Bagshash suggest that she had run to the arms of another after his treachery! And why should he even care? Confusion was paramount in her mind, and when she found he wasn't following she threw herself to the floor, curling up into a ball. If she had known how to cry she would have, but it escaped her, so she just lay in utter misery. She almost wished Drusbruk would find her and finish the job he started, death seemed a comforting oblivion over this. And someone did find her in her vulnerability.  
  
"Poor little goblin." Vashlash spoke quietly as she laid a friendly hand on Gorplak's shoulder. Vashlash felt horrible; Gorplak and Bagshash had obviously had a big argument, and it was all her fault. If only she hadn't spread those rumours, everyone would be happy. The fact that Gorplak had accepted her words, and was still willing to call her a friend just made her feel even worse. Vashlash couldn't bring herself to say anything, she just sat and held Gorplak, and tried to piece together how to even begin to say sorry.  
  
They still sat, huddled, when they were given the orders to march only a short while later. Vashlash helped Gorplak up, who was still weak from the fight but felt that the pain inside was worse than her physical wounds, and deemed herself fit to go on. And the marching began again.  
  
Bagshash wandered the column a few times, each time he passed Gorplak, sparing her a glance but nothing more, and Gorplak didn't even look at him. Her condition worried him; her head wound was still raw and open but beginning to heal, even so she looked as though she was suffering, and Bagshash knew that part of it was because of him. He didn't linger long at her section of the column, especially with Vashlash beside Gorplak and Nudlik behind. He didn't linger long at all.  
  
The sun continued to shine. To everyone's horror it was a long and sunny day, eyes searched the sky but not even a hint of forgiving cloud could be seen. The birds were singing and everyone was thoroughly depressed. As the sun finally began its descend, Bagshash took pity on the distressed Orcs and called a brief halt; the quiet of the march had allowed him to think and his temper to cool.  
  
Nudlik and Vashlash took the respite to talk; Gorplak took it to sleep away her pain for a short while. Nudlik offered to watch over her while she slept, which she accepted gratefully, and was soon dead to the world, or as near to it as she could be.  
  
"You should tell them." Nudlik said quietly, after checking for the third time that Gorplak truly was asleep.  
  
"I know." Vashlash replied miserably. " But I don't know how. Commander Bagshash doesn't know what I told her, and he thinks that she's with you because he left her. It's all so confused."  
  
"Just tell them the truth." Nudlik pulled Vashlash closer to comfort her. "They're so unhappy, and they don't need to be. You can tell Gorplak loves him by looking at her face, and Bagshash feels the same even if he won't admit it." He smiled briefly. "Every time he passed her in the column, you could see the concern in his eyes. You have to tell them."  
  
"I'll tell Gorplak," Vashlash finally relented, "But Bagshash would have my head for all the trouble I've caused. He'd kill me for sure."  
  
"Then I'll tell him." Nudlik offered. "But we do it now, it's not fair. Alright?"  
  
Vashlash nodded reluctantly. Nudlik smiled again and kissed Vashlash soundly before standing. "You wake Gorplak, I'll so and find Bagshash, and then maybe we can have a day resting tomorrow." He added with a wink. He set off on his mission.  
  
Vashlash took a breath, and set about her own mission. Yet she found she didn't have Nudlik's conviction. Maybe it could wait until Gorplak woke up herself…  
  
  
  
Bagshash had just discovered how little time command gives you to think about yourself, and he was glad of the distractions. He was just pondering some weapons drills when a figure brought his own personal dilemma straight back to him.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"What do you want?" Bagshash growled at Nudlik, in no mood for pleasantries. If Gorplak's new lover was nervous, he didn't show it.  
  
"There's a matter that needs discussion sir, about a certain Archer Gorplak." Her name on his lips made Bagshash want to rip him to shreds before he even uttered another word, but he controlled his urge.  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"There's been a misunderstanding sir…"  
  
  
  
"I'm going to say he didn't believe you." Vashlash gently sponged Nudlik's black eye and various claw marks as he tried not to flinch.  
  
"Not at first." Nudlik agreed, but when I swore it in the name of our Dark Lord I think he believed me. Why else do you think he bounded off to find her?" Nudlik flinched again before changing the subject. "So you've told Gorplak everything?"  
  
"Well," Vashlash was a little hesitant. Nudlik instantly began to worry.  
  
"You did tell her everything didn't you?"  
  
"I tried, I really did!" Vashlash defended herself. "But I didn't want to wake her…"  
  
Nudlik groaned. "Morgoth save us now."  
  
  
  
Bagshash gazed down at Gorplak's still sleeping form. Do you think me so cruel that I would choose Vashlash over you? He thought, resisting the urge to awaken her covering her in kisses from his lips. Instead he gently placed a hand on her cheek, stroking the rough skin until he saw her eyes begin to focus on him.  
  
"Bagshash?" The voice was a little hesitant, a little sleepy, a little confused. She felt his touch upon her cheek and for an instant enjoyed it, until she remembered their parting words. Bagshash saw the look of confusion deepen, and cradled her face in his hands.  
  
"It's alright, Vashlash told you the truth, everything she said was a lie."  
  
"What?" The words made no sense to Gorplak. Bagshash tried to clarify them.  
  
"What Vashlash just told you is the truth. She was lying when she said she and I had…" Bagshash paused to stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth as Gorplak started to shake her head. "And I'm sorry for thinking that you and Nudlik did anything. I should have trusted you my love…"  
  
"You…" Gorplak tried to free herself from Bagshash's touch as she tried to take in his words; my love? "Why are you still lying to me? Why the obsession with causing me pain" Vashlash was lying? They hadn't done anything? But she had seen them.  
  
"Nothing happened between me and Vashlash, I swear it in the name of Morgoth himself. Gorplak, I love you, I know that now…"  
  
"I saw you."  
  
Gorplak's short statement brought Bagshash to a halt. "What did you see?" He asked quietly.  
  
"I saw you together in the forest, I saw you strike her, I saw you draw blood, and I saw you feed upon. Then I left because if I saw any more I thought my heart would break." She hadn't met his gaze before but she did now. "But it already has." She stopped to breath before she could go on. "I loved you. And this is what I get for my love."  
  
Bagshash was stunned. "You love me?" His head reeled from this piece if information, elation filled him until her next words pierced the feeling like a knife.  
  
"No." Gorplak corrected him. "I loved you, and then you decided to chose another."  
  
"But what about what Vashlash told you? We didn't do anything." He hung his head in shame for a moment as guilt passed through him. "Admittedly I wanted her briefly, but I walked away." He raised his head again. "I walked away, pledging myself to you."  
  
"And why should I believe you?" Gorplak asked. How she wanted to believe him. How she wanted to cling to him and whisper her love for him, but she couldn't.  
  
"Vashlash was lying, I thought she told you…?"  
  
"I haven't seen Vashlash since the march ended." Gorplak said, her confusion and anger growing as each moment on his presence passed.  
  
"Nothing happened, I swear it." Bagshash tried once more to convince her of his sincerity. If she didn't believe him, he didn't know what he would do. "I swear it."  
  
Gorplak was silent for a few moments. "I don't believe you. Leave me alone."  
  
"But…"  
  
"Go away… sir."  
  
Anger. Sadness. And something that made him want to rip out his own insides. But the only thing he could think to do was to make Gorplak happy.  
  
So he walked away.  
  
And Gorplak let him. It would have been so easy to call his name, forgive him, hold him as a warrior would a favoured weapon and never let go. But she couldn't; she let him go.  
  
Only a short while later the march was resumed. It was still light, but the Orcs went on.  
  
  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
So there's still much confusion: Bagshash now knows where it all went wrong, but how can he persuade the stubborn Gorplak? Will she ever trust him again? Or will someone help him? I have it all in my head, but you'll have to wait and see! I'll try and upload the next installement quicker so I don't leave you all in suspense. Until next time dear reader! 


	10. Out in the open

Disclaimer – Still not mine last time I checked, not Lurtz, Ugluk or the Fellowship. Unfortunately.  
  
A/N – Thanks to Womba Warrior for pointing out my typo (s and d are so close together darn it!) now rectified and for the review, as well as to Amarth and Boromir's Luv. As promised, here's the next installement so you're not all in suspense – it would have been up sooner apart from ff.net's little technical hitch and my screwy internet connection. Are some Orc heads going to roll? Well, one is - guess who! On with the show!  
  
  
  
Chapter 10 – Out in the open  
  
  
  
The darkness had finally fallen across the sky, and Gorplak was glad of it; she stared at the dark ground at her feet, barely registering as it went by, her mind moving faster than her feet ever could.  
  
He loved her. He pledged himself to her. He loved her. And he denied that he and Vashlash had done anything… well he would wouldn't he. And Vashlash was telling the truth? About what? She and Vashlash hadn't spoken in hours, and Gorplak had been unaware of the nudges Nudlik had given the other female Orc, or of the furtive glances in her direction from them both. It made no sense.  
  
He loves you.  
  
A little part of her felt elated and thrilled, imagined the possibilities of happiness.  
  
You don't deserve happiness, he's lying to you, said another, mocking any positive emotion that dared erupt into her head.  
  
He loves you.  
  
He's lying.  
  
He pledged himself to you.  
  
Vashlash hasn't denied anything.  
  
He cares about you.  
  
Why should you trust him? You saw what you saw.  
  
The argument played over and over in her head, drowning out the rhythm of her feet against the dirt, creating another irregular beat.  
  
She barely noticed the column slowing; she was saved from crashing into the Orc in front of her by a restraining grip on her arm. So deep in her mental ponderings she hardly noticed who had saved her, giving an appreciative snort and began moving out of file. She only really noticed as the grip loosened but didn't remove itself, and she was forced to seek why. Her gaze travelled to her arm, around the gnarled knuckles, up the long, strong forearm, over the dark ragged locks of hair, the rugged cheeks and, although she tried to stop herself, into a pair of orange eyes that she knew very well.  
  
"Gorplak." She trembled slightly as he said her name, and she cursed herself for being so caught up in this spell he had cast over her, that she was helpless to resist and that some part of her didn't want to.  
  
"Sir." She managed to force out formally. She managed to drag her eyes from his, her gaze finally resting where his hand still gripped her arm.  
  
"Why won't you believe me Gorplak? How can I convince you I love you?" Gorplak squeezed her eyes shut, and wished her mouth would do the same.  
  
"Let me go." She whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, but she could tell by the intake of breath that he had. And, to her dismay, the hand left her arm. She almost cried out at the lack of contact, the brief heat that his presence had brought her, until she felt the heat come to rest again on her cheek.  
  
"Then let me see your eyes. Just one last time." Bagshash begged and slowly, slowly, her brightly shining green eyes met his, full of confusion, full of… regret. Bagshash wished he could taste her lips for the final time before he let her go, but knew he could not. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to brush his lips across her forehead, savouring her smell, and then he was gone. As Gorplak had asked him.  
  
And Gorplak hated herself for it.  
  
  
  
Vashlash hated herself for it. She saw everything, from Gorplak's hesitant and uncertain reaction, to Bagshash's unbelieving shuffle away. And it was her fault. Nudlik had smothered her in kind words but Vashlash hated it; she wanted to be sworn and shouted at, and these gentle words were so out of character from her lover. Still, it strengthened her resolve to do something she'd been putting off.  
  
"Gorplak? I need to talk to you about something."  
  
Gorplak couldn't help but gaze at the dark sky for help. She desperately wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and yet Vashlash was the key to all the mystery, the heartache and the pain. Reluctantly she turned to meet her friend.  
  
"I've caused you a lot of pain over the years, and most of it we've laughed about," Vashlash began, then the urge to giggle overtook her. "Remember the time that I put athelas on your wounds and you swelled up for three days? We laughed and laughed and…" She stopped as she saw her words were being met with a stony silence. She ducked her head in embarrassment.  
  
"Well, what I mean is, this time I've caused you pain and it hasn't been funny." She stopped again, this time to draw a deep breath. "I told you that Bagshash and I had… you know. Well, we didn't. I lied."  
  
Gorplak's eyes finally lifted to meet Vashlash's in disbelief, startling her to stammer out her excuses faster and more incomprehensible than she wanted. "I wanted him for myself and I'm sorry but I thought it didn't mean anything to you but it did, I know now, and then he turned me down and I just thought that…"  
  
Gorplak didn't even hear half the excuses, all she saw was Vashlash's mouth opening and closing rapidly and her own brain screaming "She lied." With numb arms she lifted her hands to Vashlash's shoulders and forced words from her shocked mind.  
  
"Nothing happened? You swear it?"  
  
Vashlash took the other female's hands in her own. "I swear it." She began to speak again but Gorplak silenced her with a finger held to the lips.  
  
"You swear it." She repeated, not as a question but as a statement of disbelief. "You swear it." A smile burst forth from her lips. "You swear it!" She shouted happily, spinning in a giddy circle and laughing. Sobering for a moment she caught Vashlash's face between her hands. "Vashlash?"  
  
The other Orc nodded slowly, suddenly wary. She was taken completely by surprise as Gorplak planted a kiss on her scarred cheeks. "I still owe you for that athelas trick." She beamed and was gone, following the trail that Bagshash had left. Vashlash let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"And I deserve whatever you give me."  
  
  
  
Gorplak wasn't running; she was flying. Finally, everything had dropped into place, and a great weight was lifted from her; she felt she could soar now that the pressure was gone. She dodged the trees as thought she flew over them, and eventually she found what she had been searching for. And for a moment she had to grasp a tree in support.  
  
Bagshash stood, surrounded by Orcs clamouring for his attention but he barely seemed to notice them. Gorplak rested her head against the rough tree bark, noticing his strong shoulders slumped as though from weariness, usually vibrant orange eyes now dull and staring at the forest floor. Gorplak frowned to herself; Bagshash's lack of life was her fault, but at least now she could set it right. She plunged into the fray and tried to fight her way to the front to get his attention.  
  
"When do we have to fight sir?"  
  
"Are we marching again tonight?"  
  
"Do we get a rest tomorrow sir?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
"We haven't any supplies, permission to go hunting?"  
  
"The sentries need relieving from their posts."  
  
"Commander Ugluk said we weren't to stop at night."  
  
From amongst the cacophony of noises, Bagshash thought he heard her. He told himself he was being ridiculous, until he heard it again.  
  
"I love you." Gorplak tried louder this time, still trying to elbow her way to the front but finding more backs and bodies in her way. He heart leapt as Bagshash turned to survey the crowd that mobbed him, but at that moment a thigh bumped into the back of hers and she stumbled forward, hidden by the horde and Bagshash missed her.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"What do we do sir!"  
  
"Permission to hunt for supplies sir!"  
  
All the time the voices grew louder as he tried to ignore them all to listen for the one he wanted to hear, but he couldn't see her; perhaps he was just hearing things.  
  
Gorplak resurfaced in time to see Bagshash look away, downhearted. She cried out again but even she couldn't hear her own voice, drowned out by the multitude around her. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures.  
  
"I LOVE YOU!"  
  
The shrieked words caused an instant silence to descend upon the group, and slowly eyes cast around to find the source. Gradually a path opened in front of Gorplak as the Orc officers all turned to stare at her, but she was only aware of one gaze that lingered in her direction.  
  
Just as the silence had fallen like a lightening strike, so the questions began likewise.  
  
"What does she think she's doing?"  
  
"Do you think the enemy heard it?"  
  
"Is he going to punish her for that?"  
  
Gorplak only heard one, oblivious to the others around her as she proceeded down the gap created for her by her wild shout.  
  
"Do you mean it?"  
  
Bagshash's voice was barely above a whisper, but Gorplak felt she would have heard it even if the forest were crashing down around them. "Vashlash told me everything. She told me the truth. She said…"  
  
"There's been enough talk recently." Bagshash growled. To the shock of all the officers, and to Gorplak's delight, he pulled her close without deliberation and applied his lips to hers with bruising force. Gorplak moaned against his lips and responded in kind, pressing herself against his body as his hands roamed through her hair, over her shoulders, down her back, creating a tingling path of pleasure. Nothing existed for the two lovers but the contact between them, and nothing else mattered. Gradually the ferocity of the kiss subsided, and reluctantly the two pulled apart, amid the shocked gasps from the Orcs present that both Gorplak and Bagshash had forgotten about.  
  
"When I said punishment that wasn't what I meant." A voice quipped, and a quick gust of laughter burst from the crowded group. Bagshash gave an embarrassed shrug but Gorplak just smiled. He placed an arm around her shoulders, and she slipped a replying arm around his waist.  
  
Captain Gagnik cleared his throat nosily. "Erm sir? What are we going to do about…"  
  
"Permission to hunt for supplies is denied, I intend to issue a break for the Company through tomorrow. Food can be hunted then. And it is not a break to fight the enemy, we'll be meeting up with Lurtz and the rest of your Uruk-Hai comrades the day after." Gagnik nodded, his questions allayed for the moment.  
  
Bagshash addressed the rest of the gaggle who were concerned that the march wouldn't continue that night. "Don't relieve the sentries, recall them, and prepare the company to move out again." Again his words were met with nods, and the crowd began to disperse. "We march in ten minutes troops." Bagshash called after them.  
  
Gorplak began to nuzzle at his neck, sharp teeth nipping slightly. He tried to stifle a groan, rather unsuccessfully, while she just laughed.  
  
"Better make it twenty." He called out again, before any other words were muffled by soft lips reaching for his own.  
  
  
  
The column waited in line. The orders to form up had been given ten minutes ago but still the command to march had not been given. And Vashlash, waiting a little impatiently like everyone else, was worried. Gorplak was missing.  
  
There was a gap beside Vashlash where there should have been an Orc and still the column waited. Just as there started a restless muttering, a slightly dishevelled Gorplak ran into line and Captain Gagnik called the order to move out.  
  
"Where have you been?" Vashlash hissed quietly, pulling a leaf from Gorplak's shaggier than usual mane. Before she had a chance to reply, Bagshash moved past their section of the line, momentarily running alongside Gorplak and planting a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"Keep it moving and keep it down, or you'll be feeling the whip." He growled threatening as he continued his vigil on the column. Vashlash raised an eyebrow.  
  
"He hasn't threatened the whip in a while, he must be in a good mood." She commented, then reality dawned on her and she grinned, a twisted, wicked grin. "And I bet you know why too don't you." She accused Gorplak happily, who just smiled suggestively. "I want all the details."  
  
The sharp crack of the whip falling on a pair of shoulders behind them reminded them of the need to be quiet so they lapsed into silence. But it gave Gorplak an idea.  
  
A good whipping. Now that's an entertaining thought…  
  
  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
All together now… hurrah! Everything's sorted between Gorplak and Bagshash, bless! And I'm not going into any more details of their sexual habits because a) I'm not sure I want to go there b) I couldn't do them justice and c) I want to keep to the pg-13 rating… although I've probably broken it with all the blood and fighting but hey! Just use your imaginations people.  
  
Well, it's plain sailing for now, but there are still enemies out there for our Orc and Uruk-Hai – some closer to home than others! Next chapter could be a bit bloody… but lots of romantic slush ahoy too. Until next time dear reader! 


	11. Matters of the heart

Disclaimer - Making no money full stop, and don't own any of the famous characters or concepts no matter how much I want to.  
  
A/N - As I warned before this chapter could get very bloody since a certain Orc is about to meet his fate. very messily! And bizarrely I think I'm going to enjoy writing it. I scare myself! However, I do apologise for my lack of anatomical knowledge of an Orc, I'm just guessing really! Please forgive any huge errors, but remember that they're not human so there's scope for improvisation! Anyway, enjoy this next installement!  
  
Chapter 11 - Matters of the heart  
  
They were at it again. The beady pair of yellow eyes watched the pair, noticing every slight touch of a hand, every glance filled with hidden meaning and desire. And he despised it. Drusbruk could see exactly what Gorplak saw in the great ugly hulk that was Bagshash, and he glanced down at his own smooth skin, knowing that he could never live up to Gorplak's expectations of an Orc. He grinned, his white teeth gleaming. Not that it mattered; Gorplak wouldn't have any expectations soon, you can't when you're dead.  
  
It would be more difficult now that she and Bagshash were together, but Drusbruk had no intention of letting that stop him. The little elf-lover would be his willingly or not, and then she would die. And if he got a chance to take out the all-powerful Uruk-Hai then all the better. All he was waiting for was the orders to halt, then separate the two in the chaos. The sky above him was still dark; there were no smears of brightness in the east, plenty of time to continue planning and plotting.  
  
Except that the Valar were against him. Moments later, the halt was called and Drusbruk found himself without a plan of action. He had only a few seconds until the fall out orders, and he could see Gorplak already begin to search for her lover. He growled quietly, and offered a small prayer to Morgoth to help him, before easing his small dagger out of its sheath.  
  
Morgoth evidently ignored him. Instead of ordering the Company to fall out, the command was given for punishment order: the troops were to deploy themselves in three lines, forming a triangle, while the guilty party were pushed to the middle to receive their punishment. Drusbruk returned the dagger to its home and obediently followed the orders along with the rest of the Company, still watching Gorplak as she formed up exchanging confused glances with that other stupid female. Forming rank perfectly, the orcs lined up shoulder to shoulder, and Drusbruk found himself on the front row, almost directly opposite Gorplak. He saw the wounds on her cheek that he had inflicted, and the dark bruising on her skin; and his breathing grew heavier as he remembered her squeals of pain. His lips pulled into a smile.  
  
Then Gorplak looked up and caught his eye.  
  
  
  
She could barely repress the shudder that ran down her spine at the sight of those yellow eyes staring at her with undisguised lust and the full lips grinning. The long days and nights had aggravated her wounds, and although moments with Bagshash had helped to relieve the pain, it was still with her; new and raw as she caught his eye. She clenched a fist to stop her hand from trembling, and was ashamed to realise she was afraid, afraid of this little runt that dared to gape so openly. Slowly, slowly she dwelt on the pain he had caused her, and turned it into anger, seething and relentless that would help her meet his eye boldly, but still he unnerved her and she glanced away. She could not fight the feeling that he had won another battle.  
  
A hush fell upon the assembled Company, and one of the points parted enough to allow Bagshash to step through. Gorplak's heart leapt in her chest to see him once more, the elation at their unification still strong. A brief smile flitted over her features, all thoughts of Drusbruk now pushed far away.  
  
  
  
The smile promptly fell from Drusbruk's face as he saw Gorplak's reaction to Bagshash's entrance. The elation at his victory when she had broken eye contact first quickly fell before the strength of the enemy forces now before him, and he flashed Bagshash a look of pure hatred that surely the Dark Lord himself would have been proud of. Bagshash however ignore it.  
  
"Company is ordered to observe punishment." He spoke, then briefly gestures to two officers who he had previously informed of his plans. Drusbruk was so busy glaring at the Uruk-Hai that he neglected to see the pair head straight to him, and it was only as they came to a halt in front of him that he realised that perhaps Bagshash had noticed his stare.  
  
"Corporal Drusbruk, one pace forward." Bagshash ordered. For a moment Drusbruk was tempted to ignore the command, but he realised that his one salvation may just be his eagerness to follow orders. He did so and pulled a crisp salute.  
  
Only his hand never made it. As soon as he had begun to step, the officers took a firm hold of his arms and held them firmly out to the side. Drusbruk snarled briefly in surprise but after a moments struggle found any efforts to release himself to be in vane.  
  
"You are charged with vengeful use of violence against an unprepared opponent within camp boundaries." Bagshash informed him. Drusbruk scoffed at the charges.  
  
"And if it was anyone else, you wouldn't care." He spat at the larger creature. A few heads turned at his outspokenness, but Drusbruk was more concerned with the fact that his death stood before him. "Go on then." He goaded. "Kill me now. Disembowel me, break my neck, save your lover's honour, go on!" He was shouting now, but he had thrown caution to the wind. "Do it! Show what a big scary monster you are! Do it!"  
  
It was the silence after his rant that he couldn't bear. Bagshash just ignored him. "Archer Gorplak, one pace forward."  
  
Surprised, Gorplak did as she was asked. Then Bagshash went on again. "This would seem a better arena for your grievances, are you satisfied by the arrangements Archer?" Gorplak nodded.  
  
"Proceed." Bagshash told her.  
  
Drusbruk swallowed. His fate now lay in the hands of the elf-lover he had wanted dead. He watched her discard her sword and dagger, and walk to the third wall of the triangle, directly opposite him. He watched as her eyes gained a vengeful gleam, and he watched as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it into her bow, the string pulled taunt.  
  
"You never would have beaten me in a fair fight meltha." He said, grinning, hoping that if he could provoke her enough his death would at least be swift and painless. He was not afraid to die now, although his wish to die in battle was only half fulfilled; still, at least he would die by his enemy's hand. The only thing he was afraid of now was the slow, pain-filled end that he could see in Gorplak's face. "I've still won."  
  
For a moment he thought he had as he saw the tension in her arm grew, but a smile flew across her face instead. She released the bow string.  
  
As the arrow ripped into his chest, Drusbruk let out a startled grunt. No pain, he started to grin. Only then did he feel the stabbing throb and managed to look down enough to see the black feathers on the tail-end protruding from his body. She had shot him. The blow had knocked his breath away, but he certainly didn't feel like he was dying. That made him grin even more. The arrow had missed his heart, instead lodging two inches above it. He gasped for air.  
  
"You missed." He panted.  
  
"I meant to." She replied as she strode towards him.  
  
  
  
The shot was a good one. Two inches above the heart, right were she wanted it. She was surprised by the look of victory on Drusbruk's face, and even more startled by the rasping speech.  
  
"You missed." The words seemed to be pushed out forcefully but happily. Did he really think that she would let him get away so lightly? Did he think that she would not repay him for the pain he had caused her?  
  
"I meant to." She told him, making her way across to him; she was only just beginning. She ignored him as she admired her handiwork; the arrow was embedded firmly enough, but not as deep as it could have been, excellent. She made an experimental pull on the arrow, gratified by the grating of the top edge on Drusbruk's collar bone and by the grinding of Drusbruk's teeth as he tried not to show his pain. Taking a firmer grasp of the shaft, she finally glanced at Drusbruk.  
  
"Scream for me meltha."  
  
He did so as she pulled the entire shaft down, the sharp arrow head ripping through flesh and muscle. The downward movement subsided as she felt the shaft come into contact with a rib, so she merely pulled the arrow out slightly until the movement down could continue. Drusbruk's scream had now become a breathless wheeze, but she paid no mind to it, dragging the shaft down another few inches. With her goal now reached, she pulled the arrow out totally, the suction of blood and tissue making it harder until it finally came loose with a gush of blood and a clomp of raw flesh. The smell of the dark, oozing liquid filled head, almost making her giddy, and she couldn't resist raising a smile filled face to the whimpering Drusbruk.  
  
The male Orc was now slumped, and would surely have fallen were he not still held upright by the two Orcs on either side of him, who were now also grinning at the sight of blood. The torn, ragged incision now lay right over Drusbruk's heart, and he felt as though his entire insides were now open to view; each breath became a struggle to remain conscious, and he knew that Gorplak was not finished yet. She leaned closed to him.  
  
"Do you remember what I told you once Drusbruk?" His brain slowly focused on the words she was saying. "I once asked if you wanted me to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you remember?"  
  
Drusbruk realised with certainty now how he was to die. He forced out his words. "I remember."  
  
Gorplak smiled and pulled back a hand. She slammed it through the opening she had made, slammed it through the now fragile ribs that were in her way and grasped the muscle that pumped the black liquid of life around her enemy. Seizing it, she ripped it out with all her strength, holding it before Drusbruk's eyes so that in his final few moments he could see her bite into it as his own life ebbed away, eyes loosing focus and body slumping until the two Orcs beside him dropped the dead corpse to the floor.  
  
Gorplak chewed on his heart thoughtfully. So it was done. She stared at the muscle in her hand, still beating, still squirting small jets of dark blood which ran in rivulets down her arm to her elbow where it dropped to the ground. The sun was slowly rising, light rays appearing through the trees, catching in little glimmers on the dark liquid which rolled over her grey skin forming new rivers and patterns on its course. She studied it intently. How beautiful it was.  
  
  
  
After the great thud that was Drusbruk's body falling to the ground, a silence descended upon the ranks of Orcs that watched Gorplak chew thoughtfully. Bagshash watched with pride, remembering the moment she had killed her adversary with a smile upon her face that spelt out that she was free, and he had never loved her more. In a dark clearing she was pitch black personified, dimmer than all the other creatures that stood there; he was drawn to that darkness. As the silence stretched longer he smiled fondly at her, his affection clear to see but he had another plan to set in motion; one he did not wish to implement, but it was the only way.  
  
"Private Nudlik, one pace forward."  
  
All eyes followed the large Orc as he obeyed and stepped out of rank, confusion paramount on his scarred face.  
  
"Congratulations," Bagshash said. "You are promoted to Corporal in the deceased's place." Nudlik resisted the urge to gush happily, instead saluting and stepping back into rank. His hand found its way into Vashlash's, who was beaming with pride.  
  
Bagshash addressed the ranks again. "Tomorrow we fight. Tomorrow we may die, but it will be in pursuit of the greatest prize imaginable. Train and rest, clean your weapons, for tomorrow we have work to do!"  
  
A great cheer seemed about to spill from every mouth. "Quietly!" Bagshash reminded them. "The enemy is near, and must not know about our presence until we want them to. Dismissed."  
  
His orders were followed by all but one, who still stood holding a bloodied chunk of flesh in her hand. She seemed barely aware of what had transpired and Bagshash was reluctant to disturb her. Still, she sensed him near her and smiled at him, and after a moment held out her hand containing the heart. Bagshash took it, took a bite and passed the heart back.  
  
It should have been so perfect, but Bagshash felt cold inside. Now all the best fighters were stationed in one squad, just as Lurtz had wanted.  
  
  
  
Well, I certainly enjoyed writing it; I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'm quite sadistic at heart. I think that worries me! Anyway, the conclusion to my tale draws nigh, but there are still a few chapters to go - full of more romance and more fighting along that way!  
  
On a completely random note, I need some help with another fic I'm planning; do elves actually cry? Someone once told me they don't, hence why they die from grief, but there are a few quotes from LOTR that seem to indicate they do, i.e.:  
  
"Grief at last wholly overcame them and they wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground." (Chap V - The Bridge of Khazad-Dum, pg 323)  
  
"The travellers. eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears." (Chapter VIII - Farewell to Lorien, pg 369). Can anyone give me a straight answer? Anyway, until next time dear reader! 


	12. The battlelines are drawn

Disclaimer - I own nothing Lord of the Rings based except my Ring Wraith costume that I made for Halloween hehehe!  
  
A/N - Thanks Womba and Boromir's Luv for your great reactions to the last chapter, I am rather proud of it! And I'm sorry I've taken so long to get this next chapter up, I haven't abandoned you, I've not been having much luck in the romance department lately and so wasn't particularly inspired to write for Bagshash and Gorplak, sorry! It's a long story and I won't go into it, I'll just disappear into a fantasy world........  
  
Chapter 12 - The battle lines are drawn  
  
"Look." Bagshash pointed down over Gorplak's shoulder as she leaned against him. "Our enemy has come ashore."  
  
Sure enough Gorplak could see the three boats, tiny but just visible against the grey and yellow shingles of a beach far ahead of them. Of the nine foes Gorplak could see nothing, and she mentioned it to Bagshash.  
  
"Dusk has fallen, they won't move on tonight. They will rest and tomorrow... tomorrow we strike." At his words he felt Gorplak tense in his arms. He planted a kiss on her neck. "Nervous?" He asked.  
  
"Excited." She replied with a smile. "Tomorrow we fight. It's what we've trained for, and what we've waited for." She licked her lips expectantly; Bagshash had the urge to lick them too but was a little too exhausted to move. Behind them the occasional screeching of metal on metal rang out as the rest of the company rehearsed their battle drills, the sound drifting through the trees to Bagshash's secluded spot. He should have been happy; the Orc he loved was in his arms, and his company was in top condition for tomorrow's battle, every commander's dream.  
  
Except that his orders were to make sure that his soldiers were wiped out.  
  
Damn Lurtz. Damn his enemy that had now chosen a battleground. Damn Saruman, the Master, for putting him on this quandary. He could ignore his orders and lead the Company to victory, or he could follow them and watch as he put the troops, HIS troops, to death. His grasp momentarily tightened around Gorplak at the thought, which she didn't fail to notice.  
  
"What is it my love?" She asked, slowly raking a clawed hand down his arm. He closed his eyes as she uttered the words, and he wondered how to answer her; for she too was part of the Company, she too was due to die and that thought chilled him to the bone. He couldn't even bear to think of it for it made his very heartbeat slow and catch in his chest. He answered her question with a question of his own.  
  
"How would you plan tomorrow's battle? He asked slowly. Gorplak was quiet for a few moments as she planned her answer.  
  
"Standard formation; infantry in front, archers behind, archers fire volleys toward the enemy, then the infantry charge and finish them. With so few enemies, hopefully we archers will be able to take them all out and get the glory for a change." She smiled at her analysis, then turned in Bagshash's arms to face him. "Why?" She was disturbed to see he would not meet her gaze.  
  
"And what if I told you that wasn't to be the case?" He asked, still avoiding her eyes.  
  
Gorplak froze, as Bagshash knew she would. She certainly wasn't stupid; she would understand his words. "So what is the plan of attack, sir?"  
  
The moment of truth. The moment that Bagshash would confess the terrible secret he had been hoarding.  
  
"The Company will act as a diversion while Lurtz leads the Uruk-Hai to victory." He paused to see if Gorplak would speak, but she remained silent. "The archery division will make up the front rank and will hold the enemies attention until the infantry charge at the last minute. The Company is to be destroyed, as they are the only evidence that the Uruk-Hai are not all- powerful."  
  
There was silence, broken only by Gorplak's ragged breathing.  
  
"No." She managed to stammer. "You're lying." Bagshash gripped her by the shoulders.  
  
"I wish I were, but I'm not. Those are my orders, as much as I hate them."  
  
"If you hate them so much then don't follow them." Gorplak pleaded. "Lurtz will never know, and a victory is a victory. And what harm can a group of nine do?" She asked.  
  
"They battled the Moria Company and were victorious." Bagshash began, and silenced Gorplak's indignant protest, "And they destroyed the Balrog."  
  
"Then what chance does anyone have in the face of such sorcery?" Gorplak cried. "How can even the Uruk-Hai stop these warriors? How does Lurtz intend to survive?" She flung at him. Bagshash had no answer for her, but another voice did.  
  
"By seeing your miserable kind annihilated like they should have been long ago."  
  
Bagshash and Gorplak leapt to their feet in the face of Lurtz's anger. Gorplak immediately went for her daggers, willing to see it buried hilt deep in Lurtz's throat, but Bagshash saw her intention and stilled her wrist.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Bagshash asked. Lurtz just sneered.  
  
"Checking my orders are being carried out, I trust they still are?" It wasn't a question, and certainly wasn't aimed at Gorplak, but in her outrage she was blind to the procedures of rank.  
  
"How can you justify our deaths for your own glory, you elf-lover, you Valar-worshipper, you..." She would have leapt for his throat, but still Bagshash held her back. Lurtz just started at her with distain.  
  
"Get back to your squad." He dismissed her.  
  
"No."  
  
Surprisingly it was Bagshash who answered him. "She'll go when I tell her." Ignoring the warning growl rising from Lurtz's throat, Bagshash pulled Gorplak kicking away from the other Uruk-Hai. "Listen to me." He hissed as she tried to scream more obscenities in Lurtz's direction.  
  
"I can't argue with Lurtz. I can't. At least," he added before she replied with a scathing remark, "At least not in public."  
  
Gorplak was quiet as she glared at Lurtz. Her gaze shifted to Bagshash, and the harshness softened. "I know you'll do the right thing." A ghost of a smile flew across her features, and she lifted her lips to his. He met them with his own and Lurtz and all their enemies were forgotten for a few moments.  
  
"I love you. Remember that." Gorplak whispered against his lips.  
  
"I won't let you down, I promise." Bagshash replied. "I love you too much." Silence fell again as he reclaimed her lips again, trying to memorise every feeling, every texture, every ounce of love she offered to him. She clung to him, passing every bit of strength she could.  
  
"Be careful my love." He whispered, before aloud dismissing her. "Return to your squad, Archer Gorplak."  
  
"Yes sir." Gorplak responded, pulling a crisp salute, then turned and offered the same to Lurtz, before marching away with perfect precision. Bagshash had never been so proud of her.  
  
Lurtz watched the pride on his face. "How very sickening." He muttered.  
  
Bagshash's claws in his throat caught him momentarily off guard. The smell of fresh blood filled the air, then the fierce grip was released.  
  
"If it weren't insubordination, I'd kill you where you stand." Bagshash warned him quietly.  
  
"And I should kill you for being insubordinate and rejecting orders." Lurtz bellowed in response. Bagshash stood his ground.  
  
"I've done everything you've ordered me." He said. "The troops are battle prepared, and the ranks will be in place I assure you."  
  
Lurtz frowned. "They'd better be." He growled. "Or I have no problem with routing out the traitors under my command and will kill them with the same joy as I would the enemy, do you understand me Bagshash?"  
  
"Oh I understand." The unspoken words were as tangible in the air as the smell of the next days battle, and Bagshash found there were more battle lines drawn then just the obvious ones. He little doubted that Lurtz would not hesitate to take him from his command if he dared to interfere, but the fear of death did not hang over him. He would do what he had to; he knew where his loyalties lay.  
  
Lurtz snorted. "I'm returning to the Uruk-Hai. We lie in wait over the next ridge, see you hold the enemy until we strike."  
  
"Very good, sir." Bagshash replied, grudgingly. Lurtz nodded and departed, trying not to show his unease at how easily Bagshash had wounded him. He would have his revenge.  
  
Bagshash watched him go, then turned to survey tomorrow's battlefield. Tomorrow it was then. He should have begun his preparations for battle, but found his thoughts drifting to a certain Archer female who would be tomorrow's front rank, right in the line of fire...  
  
  
  
"Here's to tomorrow's victory." Vashlash toasted the group gathered around her, flashing a special smile to Gorplak and Nudlik.  
  
"To bloody swords." Nudlik added.  
  
"And arrows." Gorplak tried to add with a smile. The others were in good spirits, and she couldn't bring them down with her knowledge. She took a deep breath, and reminded herself that the Company would be victorious without or without the Uruk-Hai. She swallowed the fierce drink that was traditional to be shared the night before a battle and tried to rest, but her thoughts kept drifting to a certain Uruk-Hai commander that was sleeping lonely this night. She went to join him, and the night passed quietly enough.  
  
The next day dawned brightly, in spite of the promise of darkness.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
And soon enough the battle will begin. Who will live? Who will die? Also, look out for the return of some Fellowship characters in the next few chapters. Until next time dear reader! 


	13. Breaking point

Disclaimer - no, not mine, never will be, although Gorplak and Bagshash live happily in my head, so there!  
  
  
  
A/N - the conclusion of my tale draws nigh, but not just yet. Enjoy the blood... but don't hate me for what you are about to read. Thanks to Womba for the review as always, as well as JoKing and Corrinth too!  
  
  
  
Chapter 13 - Breaking point  
  
  
  
The ruins stood high on the hill above them, the fingers of the hand cracked but still standing tall and strong. Amon Hen, the Hill of Sight, Gorplak remembered drawing deep into her memory. And beyond it she knew that Lurtz was amassing his Uruk-Hai army, waiting for the Orcs to fail. She tested the string on her bow just one more time, itching to notch an arrow and let the battle begin.  
  
But still the enemy did not show themselves.  
  
Scouts had been sent out into the early morning sun to report on the whereabouts of the enemy and now as the sun rose higher, pitching patches of light onto the wooded floor, news came back that their foe had split up. Bagshash had cursed but decided to hold the Company where it was; on the western bank of the Anduin, between the beach where their adversaries had landed and Amon Hen, with the enemy split up and wandering between the two armies. An easy kill.  
  
And yet, as Gorplak stood in the front line of archers, waiting for a glimpse of something to shoot at, she felt vaguely uneasy. She trusted Bagshash with her life and yet his decision to follow Lurtz's battle formation, with her in the front row, felt wrong. As an extra precaution she had whetted her blade so it was as sharp as the claws of Morgoth himself, ready to rip into the flesh of any enemy who came too close, but with so few foes, a few volleys of arrows should finish the job, surely.  
  
"Morgoth's breath" A mumbled curse fell from the mouth of the Orc next to Gorplak. She tensed, glancing up, expecting to see the enemy approaching, but the land before them was still empty. She felt a nudge on her left elbow.  
  
"You don't have a bow string to spare do you?" Huklog asked, pathetically indicating that his had snapped in two. Gorplak's eyes narrowed, but she grudgingly pulled a spare string from her quiver. Now she only had two left for emergencies. She sudden realised the benefits of Bagshash's formation as her eyes travelled down the line of her fellow archers, some nervously counting arrows, others stretching strings to breaking point and letting go to hear it sing. To her shame she was hardly part of the best archery division; she was confident that she alone would actually be able to hit a target, perhaps it was advisable to be a few feet further forward to better their aim.  
  
A sudden movement rustled the bushes ahead. At the sound, a stream of arrows flew towards it, and a small black bird flew from the bush, perfectly unharmed. Just to put the others to shame, Gorplak took aim, fired, and the bird fell to the ground with her arrow lodged in its chest.  
  
"Don't waste your arrows." An angry whisper reminded them. "But good shooting Archer Gorplak." Gorplak recognised the voice and smiled.  
  
"Thank you my love, sir." She replied, ignoring a few glances from those who had not guessed at their relationship. Bagshash stood behind her and moved his lips to sweep her ear. Gorplak shivered.  
  
"Be careful, lover, any sign of defeat and I want you to retreat." Gorplak turned and made to reply, but Bagshash covered her response with a kiss. "Just you, if needs be. I want you... I need you to live."  
  
"And when did you become so pessimistic about our chances?" She asked him, bluffing slightly even though her own uneasiness agreed with him. Bagshash just stared over the hill.  
  
"I don't trust our foes." He whispered. "I fear they have a strength that even surpasses us. I fear..."  
  
Bagshash was unable to finish his sentence, as a strange voice called through the air.  
  
"Confound it young hobbit! Frodo! Where are you?" Over the slope of the ridge two figures appeared; one short, stocky and carrying an axe, the other tall, graceful and decidedly horrendous. They seemed to be searching for something, but soon their eyes lighted upon the band of Orcs waiting for them. For an instant they froze as Bagshash's bellow filled the morning.  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
The battle had begun.  
  
  
  
Lurtz was confident. He had seen a halfling flee to the ruins, followed by a human, so now there was only one pitiful man to stop him from his mission. "Advance." He ordered, and the horde of Uruk-Hai began to move slowly up the hill. Lurtz watched as the front rank began to hack at the man... this would be over very soon.  
  
  
  
At Bagshash's order, forty arrows were set loose from their bows, whistling as they sliced through the air, and forty arrows slammed to the ground, missing their targets. Only one had come close, passing through the golden locks of the elf who had had the good fortune to move in the right direction at the right time else he would have been skewered. In retaliation, he fired off three arrows in the blink of an eye, and Gorplak saw three of her fellow Orcs fall to the ground dead. Notching another arrow she took aim again, this time her intended target the dwarf who was charging towards the front rank - her - shouting a dwarvish battle cry. Unfortunately, the advance of the warrior didn't help to bolster the courage of her comrades. Huklog next to her took a step back, then the Orc on the other side did, then she could see neither of them in her eye line.  
  
"Cowards" She spat briefly, then they were gone from her mind, and all that existed was she and her target. The world narrowed and slowed until only the charging dwarf filled her senses, she was only vaguely aware of the passing wind of an arrow brushing past her cheek, only vaguely aware of the dying gurgle of an Orc behind her as it lodged in his throat, only vaguely aware of an order being shouted, then her aim was perfect and she was ready to release the arrow and...  
  
A black shape filled her vision, forcing her to shoot the arrow wide of its mark, and she cursed as another black shape charged past her, shouting an Orcish battle cry. The world snapped back into vision and Gorplak watched Vashlash and Nudlik charging forward towards the enemy, blades in hands. Still the dwarf came, undaunted by this new challenge; indeed, Gorplak would have sworn she saw his eyes light up with the prospect of battle. Pulling another arrow from her quiver she dismissed attacking the dwarf, there was little opportunity for an arrow in that melee, and she knew Nudlik would need no help in vanquishing his foe. Her attention turned once more to the horrendous elf. With the oncoming charge of her comrades, he had now banished his bow to his shoulder and instead leapt to his own comrade's aid, twin knife blades in his hands. The weapons spun, reflecting the dappled sunlight around the battleground, as he sprinted towards the growing cluster of Orcs around the dwarf, and Gorplak watched, almost frozen as first one blade, then the other seemed to bleed black with the blood of her kind. The battlefield, at first so silent, now became louder, the air choked with the screams of the dying, and Gorplak could see they were not the screams of the enemy. An Orc stumbled from the group, claws pressed to a bloody wound where eyes should have gleamed, taken by an axe swing, only to be met by a knife in the ribs and a gentle cry of surprise escaped the bloodied lips.  
  
Gorplak dared not even breathe. Vashlash's hands fell to her new wound and Gorplak saw her friend's body sag to the ground. The longer she stared, the less movement Vashlash made. And like that her friend was gone. Forever.  
  
Sadness. Anger. No, not anger, fury. A white, blinding fury made Gorplak calmly notch the arrow and aim it at the very centre of her enemy's chest. Let fly, it sped on its way, only to be deflected by the sweeping arc of a blade, originally intended to block a sword thrust. It seemed to surprise the elf, but only for a moment as the second blade continued its path into the throat of the attacking Orc. Only once that first enemy had been dispatched did the elf bother to see where this secondary attack originated.  
  
Elven blue eyes met Orcish green. The Elvish archer briefly studied the single remaining Orc archer on the battlefield, and for a moment such stillness in the midst of such mayhem seemed ridiculous. Among the charging infantry Orcs, among the cries and clashes of metal on metal, the two opponents faced each other, motionless. Slowly, as slowly as the coming of twilight creeps over the evening sky, the elf reached for the bow upon his shoulder. Gorplak stretched for an arrow, the elf seeming to mirror her actions, both entrenched in a race that seemed to last an age, even as only a second passed. The arrows were notched, the strings pulled taut, and it became a deadly game of who was quickest to aim.  
  
The elf fired first.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Infantry! CHARGE!" Bagshash bellowed, seeing the line of archers in front diminishing, whether by enemy fire or by a slow retreat on foot. To her credit, Gorplak still stood, bow in hand but even her deadly aim could not stop the relentless charge. He watched as she was forced wide of her dwarven mark as Nudlik rushed past her, then footfalls from behind him caught his attention. The Orcs were running away. With a growl he leapt after them, caught them, and sent the slowest into the oblivion of death before the Orc had even turned around. Reaching for the next in line he bellowed at them to stop, but even the vengeance of the Uruk-Hai was not as terrifying as the blond monster that slowly descended upon their ranks. Bagshash let them go, cursing them to Valinor and back. He turned back to the battle.  
  
Infantry swarmed about the dwarf, barely landing so much as a punch as the wicked axe blade cut them down like young saplings. A handful of archers still stood, quaking more than firing, except one who stood firm. Bagshash watched his love pull one more arrow from her back, and he smiled as he looked for the elf that was about to die.  
  
Except that the elf was pulling out a sister arrow to Gorplak's. And as Bagshash watched the stings stretch and saw the first arrow fly, a pain in his heart made him cry aloud. It was all he could do to watch Gorplak drop her bow with nerveless fingers, those very hands clutching at the feathered stick that now protruded from her chest. He could only watch as she sank slowly to her knees, graceful even in the midst of her defeat.  
  
Defeat?  
  
"NO!" Bagshash was barely aware he had cried out as he ran towards his love, blood - her blood - spilling onto the ground. All thoughts of his enemies was gone, the falling Orc was the only thing he could think of.  
  
  
  
Lurtz had abandoned his company of Uruk-Hai. How one insignificant man could be eluding death surprised him, but against such numbers he could not compete and Lurtz was confident of success. Now he came to check on his other enemy, Bagshash. As he crested the hill, the shambles of a battlefield appeared to him. Orcs lay scatters, some squirming in the throws of death, others still, while the dwarf slaughtered yet more. Curiously the elf seemed briefly frozen, and Lurtz noticed it was Bagshash's heathen love interest that held its attention. He watched as they drew their arrows, a fatal dance which the Orc lost. Lurtz smiled at her downfall and watched the elf, who calmly re-shouldered the bow and plunged once more into the fray, more Orc blood spilling from the blades that seemed an extension of the elf itself.  
  
"NO!" A gruff but desperate cry alerted Lurtz to Bagshash's location, and Lurtz saw him frantically run to the fallen Orc's side. His hand gripped his bow tighter and with a sneer he realised that with one shot he could remove the traitorous fiend who had brought shame to his race and this battlefield. Just as he raised the bow, another dwarven challenge rendered the air, and Lurtz grinned in anticipation. So intent was Bagshash upon reaching his love that he failed to see the dwarf heading straight for him, axe poised and ready to strike. Lurtz lowered his own weapon and turned his back on the butchery below. He returned to his own kind once more. Bagshash was doomed, the Orcs broken; life was good.  
  
  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Is Gorplak dead? And what of Bagshash's fate? And hands up who hates Legolas now. I'm sorry, there's no way for this story to have a happy ending, hope everyone has tissues handy. Trust me, I don't like killing off my little Orcs either. Until next time dear reader, tune in for the last chapter. 


	14. Death and Glory

Disclaimer - only the blood stained Orcs we know and love are mine, that's it.  
  
A/N - sorry for the long delay, I know it's been 6 months or more since an update but the final year of university is unfortunately more important that Gorplak and Bagshash's troubles right now. Still, the conclusion to this tale draws nigh. I would recommend going back and reading the last chapter again to refresh it in your memories, and aid continuity.  
  
Hankies at the ready? Then I'll begin...  
  
Chapter 14 - Death and glory  
  
"No. No, no no no no..." Bagshash muttered the denial like a litany, as though it would make the sight before him less true. The battle, the dead, the enemy were all forgotten in his mind; only one thing mattered now.  
  
The same was unfortunately true of the dwarf, bearing down upon the oblivious Bagshash with only one goal in mind. Still roaring great battle cries in his own tongue, he made a great swing once with his axe, and it bit deep into the flesh of the Uruk-Hai.  
  
Bagshash was hardly aware that he had been hit; it was only as his legs buckled beneath him, paralysed as the axe blow severed his spinal cord, and he fell to the ground that he barely noticed the figure of the dwarf around him. With legs that refused to obey him, he struggled on still, desperate to reach Gorplak, hand over hand to drag himself forward. But the dwarf was not done yet.  
  
With a downward swing of the axe, the sharp steel embedded itself, cutting through flesh, muscle and bone, crashing through a shoulder blade, and Bagshash found himself unable to move once more. With a heavy sigh he fell, face to the ground.  
  
The dwarf gave a satisfied grunt, and went to find more bloody work for himself and his weapon to do.  
  
--------------  
  
It hurt.  
  
Oh, how it hurt. Each breath made Gorplak die a little more, and she recognised the fact. It hurt. With each exhalation of air, Gorplak could hear her own blood gurgling in her lungs, and she felt she was slowly drowning in it. She barely had the energy to cough it from her airways, each breath more a laboured sigh. With the last strength she could muster, she cried out as hard as she could. "Bagshash..."  
  
--------------  
  
It was the heartfelt cry that forced Bagshash to raise his head. The faint voice, once so full of pride, now so painfully quiet and forced. "Gorplak." He answered her, confused by a feeling of moisture on his cheeks, but determined once more to reach her. He stretched forward one hand, digging his claws into the earth and dragged his numb body forward. He tried the other hand but it was weak and useless where the dwarven axe had driven deep, so with his one good arm, hand by hand, inch by inch, he dragged himself to his beloved's side, oblivious to the dark streak of blood that marked his trail.  
  
Around him the once ferocious band of Orcs now lay in ruins. Captain Gagnik was dead, as were the Lieutenants, only Ensign Grishnakh had made the sensible yet cowardly decision to run away, taking a few Orcs loyal to him. He had fled to safer ground, to join the heavy ranks of the Uruk-Hai, who now bore away their captives with glee. Nudlik, once so proud, now sat quite still, cradling his own innards and sighing gently for Vashlash, unaware that the loved one he sought lay not a few feet away, her body unrecognisable through a grim mask of blood and filth.  
  
Still Bagshash struggled on, unheedingly the tattered remains around him, hearing only Gorplak as she gasped for air in what may each time be her last breath. Through her world masked by pain, and a darkness that gradually encroached upon her vision, her heavy and tired eyes saw Bagshash slowly approaching her side. The pain was lessening now, a slow, cold numbness had replaced the fiery, angry ache, and Gorplak used this relief to hold out a bloodstained hand to her love.  
  
Her soft welcoming smile soon turned to a mild frown at the tears that Bagshash didn't even realise he was crying. She tried to lift her hand to wipe them from his face but her tired limb would not obey her and it fell with a quiet thud to the ground. She could only look on, saddened, her once proud archer's muscles now beyond use.  
  
"Gorplak..." It was all Bagshash could say. He had seen the pale feathered arrow strike, he had endured the torment of seeing it lodged in his beloved body as he battled to reach her, but up close... it was so much worse. There was little blood from the wound, but the arrowhead was buried deep within her, puncturing her organs, Bagshash wondered how she had lived this long.  
  
As still more silver tears poured from the orange globes of her lover, Gorplak vaguely recognised the dark liquid that flowed from Bagshash's shoulder. "You are hurt my love." She wheezed, each word little more than a groan.  
  
"It is nothing." Bagshash said, stroking the gnarled hand that had been held out to him, and gently nuzzling her ebony hair, tangled with leaves and dirt.  
  
"Bagshash..." She had to halt her words as a great desire to cough overcame her, and the upper half of her body convulsed at the effort, another trickle of dark blood escaping from her lips to ebb to the ground beneath her. Bagshash held her close, feeling every tremor that wracked her once proud body.  
  
"Bagshash," She tried to speak again. "I'm dying..."  
  
"No," He interrupted her. "After everything we have been through, I will not lose you now." Faint bruises that could have passed for shadows still marred her throat from their first meeting, the wounds inflicted by the monster Drusbruk had now healed enough to be only slight abrasions on her cheeks and forehead, and on a collar bone could just be seen a lovingly imprinted bite mark, testament to their love making. The marks on her body mapped their journey together, the highs and the lows, and to come through it all to fall now... Bagshash would not think of it. He smiled feebly to give hope that he did not feel. "You are an Archer; strong and brave, this will hardly trouble you."  
  
Gorplak replied with a feeble shake of the head. "I am dying my love, but I want you to know..." Her words trailed off as she tired from the effort. Her eyes closed. Bagshash gripped harder on her hand and they opened again, and Gorplak tried to resume with renewed energy. "I love you. In a world of light and despair, you brought hope and darkness." Her eyes drifted for a moment. "Such darkness. Blacker than midnight." Another wheezing breath and she refocused on the wrinkled features of her love again. "Wherever death takes us, be it a dark underground, or the accursed Halls of Mandos, I will find you again."  
  
Bagshash almost couldn't speak, his throat constricted by misery. "I love you. For now, for ever." He stroked her face. "Don't leave me Gorplak, I need you. You showed me what true darkness is, opened my eyes to things I've never felt before."  
  
She barely seemed to hear him. "Such blackness." She mumbled, her eyelids drooping.  
  
"I can't go on without you, come back to me!" Bagshash cried in desperation, feeling her limbs beginning to relax beneath him. He caressed her face with his lips, willing that his very touch would bring life back to her pale skin. "Come back to me." He whispered.  
  
Gorplak's green eyes flared with a new colour, and Bagshash was filled with hope. "Join me soon, my darkest light." She breathed. Then the eyes that were so filled with life and emotion unfocused and were shut.  
  
Silence.  
  
Bagshash himself forgot to breathe as no more sound emerged from Gorplak's body. "No." He whispered. "No." But his words did nothing.  
  
With a great howl, Bagshash lifted his head to the sky, and an unknown feeling entered his body. He gasped at the sharpness of it, clutching at his chest and dropping to the floor, falling across the body of his lover as, in his grief, his heart gave out and death took him willingly into arms that reached out for him, into an oblivion of darkness that would enfold the lovers forever. 


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
Legolas stood still for a moment, remembering what had happened here just a few hours ago; and yet so much had changed. Boromir now dead, his body taken by the river, Frodo and Sam also taken by the water, but with the Valar's protection and guidance on a very different route to their deceased friend, and Merry and Pippin...  
  
Plucking another usable arrow from a dead Orc, Legolas remembered his mission, and hence his return to this battle ground. Aragorn and Gimli waited for their elf friend nearby while he collected some arrows to return to his dwindling stock, then off after the two dear hobbits they would go, although whether they chased hope or dread remained to be see. Legolas quickened his pace, disliking to be holding up the trio. Seeing to the remains of brave Boromir had wasted enough time but, at Great Iluvatar's mercy, they would be in time to save their little friends.  
  
He reached for another arrow, but paused, his arm outstretched. His eyes caught those of another, jolting a spark of recognition. Yes, here was the body of the Orc archer that he had slain, too slow had it been in firing and it had paid the price. And strangely, Legolas saw the body of a large Uruk-Hai resting across the fallen Orc, a great wound searing across it's back and one shoulder mashed and bloody. Legolas resisted a smile at the exceptional work of Gimli's axe. The dwarf had done his work well.  
  
Legolas pulled the arrow from the body with an almost brutal rip, almost delighting at causing yet more damage. No one could accuse the Prince of Mirkwood of hating unjustly, Orcs had no place on this fair earth: ugly, cruel creatures. How creatures could live without beauty, without love, without care, he would never understand. Having retrieved the arrow he turned his back on the despicable, worthless, unloved beasts.  
  
THE END 


	16. Author's notes

I defy anyone not to hate Legolas now. Okay, okay, although that was the ending I originally planned, due to popular demand, here's an altogether happier ending.  
  
Additional chapter 15 - Escape  
  
Green eyes, tinted silver by the moonlight reflected from above, focussed on the dark sky, while hands clutched at where an arrow should be, protruding from her breast.  
  
And yet there was nothing.  
  
Gorplak sat up quickly, breathing deeply, almost surprised that air flowed so easily into her lungs. "Bagshash," She sighed softly, "Bagshash?"  
  
A strong arm encircled her waist, while another stroked her cheek reassuringly, tracing a freshly healed scar. "It was just a dream love." He told her, grazing her skin with his lips. Gorplak flung her arms around Bagshash's huge neck, surprising him with its force.  
  
"It was horrid," She murmured, the pictures in her dream frighteningly real. "We were in the battle, and we lost, we all died. It was the elf, it killed me." She hugged Bagshash closer. "I lost you, I lost you."  
  
Bagshash smiled against her hair. "We didn't go to the battle, remember love? We ran the night before last."  
  
Gorplak nodded, but was reluctant to let go of her lover. "Yes, I remember. But it was a horrid dream."  
  
"I'm not surprised though," Vashlash chimed in, "That elf would have given anyone nightmares."  
  
"Not me." Nudlik grinned, while Vashlash gave him a punch and a smile. The two couples now rested safe within the trees that sheltered the river as they followed its course south. Soon they would have to leave the security of it's banks and strike out south-east, and risk the open plains of Rohan, but they were fairly certain that they could reach the safety of the White Mountains soon enough and with little trouble. It would be hard to set up a home there, and avoid detection by other Orc and enemy alike, but as Gorplak felt Bagshash's arms around her, she knew that she could go even to the gates of Valinor as long as Bagshash was by her side.  
  
"You don't regret running from the Company do you?" Bagshash asked her, but Gorplak just smiled.  
  
"Could an elf beat me in an archery contest?" She asked cryptically in return. Bagshash hugged her the tighter, knowing the answer to be no. She rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you."  
  
"And I you. Love deeper than the pits of Isengard, and stronger than the walls of Barad-dur. May our love last longer than them both."  
  
"I don't doubt it." Gorplak replied, and she claimed his lips in a kiss.  
  
THE END  
  
Yes, really I'm a sappy romantic and although I was hoping that the original ending was fairly powerful, I got too attached to these guys to kill them off, even if originally they were supposed to die. Believe any ending you like!  
  
Anyway, this brings my tale to an end, and I'd like to thank everyone for sharing in this journey with me, because to tell the truth it's actually the first story I've ever finished!  
  
However, by no means do I intend for it to be the last! My "moments in Middle-Earth" survey is still doing strong with Gollum up next, and as a sneak preview, I have a few other ideas in the pipeline:  
  
An investigation into elvish grief, currently titled "May Seasons Pass"  
  
A modern day fic centred around Legolas and Glorfindel called "Fact is stranger than fiction"  
  
A slash piece (sorry to anyone who is against it!) with a Legolas/Erestor pairing, that one will be a fairly low rating  
  
A few other ideas with familiar concepts (girl dropped in Middle-Earth and someone follows the Fellowship) but with a few twists. I'm not so sure about these though.  
  
All of these have the first few chapters written, but the rest of the plot is safely fixed in my head and has yet to be committed to print. If the unashamed advertising above has piqued your interest, either keep checking my fanfiction account or email me and I'll make a mailing list for when I've put chapters up. I also again sincerely apologise for the waits you've had to put up with over the last. crikey, year, but as much as I love living in a fantasy world, real life occasionally has to take precedence. Still, I continue to persevere.  
  
To mention a few reviewers by name, the honour must first go to my beloved chief minion Womba Warrior and her silent mob down under for giving all my work their praise. Also to Corrinth, who has always encouraged me, even back when I knew her as "Sophie"! Also Boromir's Luv/Babe for the "favourite author" listing, as well as Amarth, LOTR Lover, and all of the others who left me with encouraging sentiments, thank you all!  
  
Thanks again for coming, have a nice day and please please come again! Fare thee well!  
  
Taith Ant 


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